


Once Upon A Dream

by Neteri_Draconis



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Adventure, Angst, Drama, F/M, Fade Nerds, Fade Tongue, Friendship/Love, Magic, Romance, Sassy Inquisitor, Slavery, sexy elf times, will be nsfw in later chapters
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2017-04-26
Packaged: 2018-04-22 14:41:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 46,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4839251
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Neteri_Draconis/pseuds/Neteri_Draconis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have lived a long time. Longer than anyone else should have to live. I have known many wonderful things and just as many wonderful people, and I have mourned them all as they passed and I stayed. Such was the way of my world. But even that was not meant to endure. My world has changed. It first began with the Breach, which led me to the Inquisition, which in turn led me to the elf with the ageless eyes who would change my world forever. Eyes that I had once forgotten. The eyes of the Dread Wolf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

Have you ever stood, watching helplessly, as your entire world collapsed on itself, never to rise again? I have.

I wish I could explain with words the terrible agony and misery that follows such an event. But there are no words in Elvish, Dwarvish, Qunlat, or the tongues of Men that could accurately describe such feelings. They are beyond this world. Beyond anything we should ever have to experience.

But they still occur nonetheless.

I was only a child when the gods vanished from the world, leaving it in darkness and disarray. I do not remember the event of their disappearance, but I do remember the slow, awful aftermath. The world lost its luster, a little by little. The wards that the gods had set to protect us, their people, began to crumble. The borders of our empire shrunk as wild beasts, plagues, and infighting tore down what once was magnificent and beautiful. When peace finally came, the People were only a hollow shell of our former glory. I lost my family to the civil war and the plague, and even as a child, I could not help but feel that the worst had yet to come.

And come it did.

Throughout the millennia after, scholars and historians wrote about how the 'great and mighty' Tevinter tore down our 'weak and feeble' empire, but they never seem to mention that it was already dead. They used our frailty after centuries of disaster as an excuse to call us inferior, lesser, and to chain us to their will. Hundreds killed themselves rather than be put in shackles by the shemlen, despite the fact that we were becoming shemlen ourselves.

For centuries, I used to think that they were the lucky ones. I was one of many who were put to work mining stone from the quarries, stone that would build Minrathous and the empire that choked the last vestiges of life from my people. I threw myself into the work with a bitterness and a hatred that could not be quenched. The world around me disappeared and all that was left was the work. I did not even notice that fifty years had passed until one of the slave drivers pointed out to his superior that I had not aged in five decades. That was the end of my days in the quarry.

After experiment upon experiment and nothing being found that would explain why I was still ageless, while the rest of my people were growing old and gray, I was sold to a particularly powerful magister who kept me in his house like a goose that laid golden eggs. I went wherever he went, and he would show me off to the court and the magisterium as though I were a dragon that he had tamed to be a house pet. The truth was, I was anything but tame.

If there was any advantage to be gleaned from the century and a half that I spent in chains, it was that I had learned one valuable lesson: the gods who decided our fates were long gone. My fate rested in my hands and mine alone. No god would give me the freedom I craved. I had to take it.

And so I did, with a rusted blade in one hand and a ball of lightning in the other. It was then that my life truly began.

My name is Halia Lavellan. Welcome to my story, mortals. I hope you enjoy yourselves.


	2. Chapter 2

" _Hahren, I must ask a favor of you."_

" _Oh?" I did not look up from the forge. I drew my arm back and brought it down hard. The hammer clanged against the silver metal, slowly, but surely, shaping it into the form I wanted._

" _There is to be a meeting of the leaders of the Templars and Mage rebels. An opportunity for peace talks," she began slowly._

_I quirked an eyebrow and shook my head to shift a strand of long blonde hair out of my eyes, which were still focused on my forging. She shifted impatiently behind me as I continued hammering the metal into the shape of a blade. Once the heat had left the metal, I place the blade back into the burning coals and turned to face Deshanna._

" _Such a meeting would be pointless," I said finally, stretching my sore arms. "There are no negotiations in a rebellion. One side loses, and one side wins. Winner takes all, and loser looses everything. We both know this."_

_Deshanna's wizened face crinkled even further as frown lines appeared. "This time it is different."_

" _It always is." I pulled out the glowing red blade and placed it on the anvil, and I began to pound it again. "What's this favor about, da'len? You have yet to explain yourself."_

" _We need someone inside the Conclave. Someone who will report everything to us, not just what the Chantry approves. Whatever is decided there will affect the whole world, including us," Deshanna explained._

_I nodded absently. "Logical. Send your First, Ellana. The poor child needs to get out and see the world beyond our camp. She will learn much about the shemlen there. As a future Keeper, she will need to."_

" _I was hoping you would be the one to go."_

_My eyebrows shot into my hairline, and I placed the blade back in the coals. I turned back to Deshanna, who was staring up at me expectantly._

" _Trying to get rid of me, I see?" I teased. "Come now, why me? Ellana is a much better choice."_

" _Ellana has many merits, this is true. She is young and intelligent, but inexperienced," Deshanna agreed. "However, you possess eternal youth and wisdom, and you know the shemlen's world better than any of us. There is no one I trust more with this matter."_

_I opened my mouth to protest, but I could not think of any reason not to do as she asked. Despite my being at home with the clan, I was growing depressed, and Deshanna and I both knew it. There's nothing quite as lonely as watching those you love grow and evolve around you, while you stay the same. It's a special kind of hell. Truth be told, I was dying for a change. Anything, really._

" _Very well, da'len. I'll do as you ask," I replied finally. "Try not to lead the clan into a dragon's nest while I'm away."_

Pain. Pain was the first thing I felt as the fog lifted from my mind. My body ached, as though I'd been slammed into a wall. A painful throb resided at the base of my skull, and a dull ache situated behind my eyes as I forced my heavy eyelids to open. My magic reached out to assess my injuries.

Concussion. Bruising along the back and side. No broken bones. No cuts or scrapes. No internal bleeding. Wait. What. Is. That?

My eyelids finally cooperated and dragged themselves open. It was dim where I sat, but I could see just fine. There was a sharp intake of breath only a few feet away from me, and I glanced up to see myself surrounded by armed and armored shemlen, all nervously pointing swords at me. My mind snapped to attention, and I attempted to move but something cold and hard held me in place. I looked down. Chains.

My lips curled at the sight, but my mind raced with questions. Where was I? What had happened? No answers presented themselves.

Then, suddenly, something within my left hand shattered, and green light burst from my palm. I gasped, completely taken aback by the sudden rush of pain and magic that burned across my hand with a frightening intensity. I gritted my teeth against the unpleasant sensation. As if on cue, the door before me slammed open, and two shemlen women strode into the room. Both of them wore the sunburst symbols of the Chantry upon their clothes.

Oh wonderful.  _Andrastians_.

A woman with sharp, unforgiving features, harsh brown eyes, and short black hair headed straight for me, while the hooded woman with red hair lingered behind, eying me with suspicion. Neither of them made any effort to conceal the anger that bubbled underneath their hard expressions. For a moment, I thought that the dark-haired woman was going to reach out to strangle me, but she moved behind me with deliberately calm footsteps. My ears twitched as I strained to hear her every move behind me.

"Tell me why we shouldn't kill you now." The words came out almost like a hiss through clenched teeth. "The Conclave is destroyed. Everyone who attended is dead. Except for _you_."

I stopped breathing as shock poured into me. I could not have spoken even if I had wanted to. My mind raced again, trying desperately to find an explanation for what was happening, but all that came to me was a flash of green, a horde of giant spiders, and an aged woman screaming at me to run. My brows knit together in confusion.  _What had happened?_

The dark-haired woman snatched up my left hand in her own gauntleted grip. "Explain  _this_." The magic in my palm flared bright green again, but the pain was significantly less than before. On reflex, I yanked my hand out of her grip and met her fiery gaze.

"I can't." I glared up at her, not bothering to disguise the defiance in my eyes. This angered the shemlen.

"What do you mean, you can't?!"

"I don't know what that is," I replied truthfully. "Or how it got there."

The dark-haired shemlen snarled and grasped my throat. "You're lying!"

I was less than a second away from casting a mind blast, but before I went through with it, the red-haired shemlen grabbed the other and pulled her off me. She advanced on her, forcing the dark-haired one to back several paces away from me. The redhead was smaller than the other, but somehow was able to keep her back.

"We need her, Cassandra," she chided the dark-haired shemlen, Cassandra. Then, she turned to me.

I narrowed my eyes at the display. "As fascinating as I find our conversation, I think it's about time someone tells me what the hell is going on."

"Do you remember what happened? How this began?" the redhead asked. Her manner was much less forceful than Cassandra's, but still firm and straight to the point. I shot Cassandra a suspicious glare before replying:

"I remember… running. Things were chasing me. There was a woman."

"A woman?" the redhead gasped, taken aback.

I nodded, trying to concentrate on the fuzzy memory. Perhaps if I told them what I knew, they would let me go sooner. Or they would lock me up, maybe even try to kill me. As  _if_ they could.

"She reached out to me, but then…" I trailed off. There was nothing. Whatever else had happened after, or even before, was gone without a trace. A frustrated sneer formed on my face, and I huffed at my lack of memory.

The shemlen, Cassandra, stepped in front of the redhead and said, softly, "Go to the forward camp, Leliana. I will take her to the rift."

Leliana shot a glance at me, then nodded and turned to leave. I watched carefully as Cassandra made her way over to me. She did not seem angry anymore, just tired. Yet that did not mean that she wouldn't try to attack again. This shemlen seemed to have quite a… volatile nature.

Cassandra knelt before me and removed the shackles, but did not cut the rope that bound my wrists together. The other shemlen guards sheathed their swords and stepped back. I eyed her carefully, noting for the first time the various scars that marred her olive skin. This woman was a warrior, a fighter.

"What  _did_  happen?" I asked after a moment of silence as she unlocked the shackles.

She grasped my arm and helped pulled me to my feet. A flash of uncertainty appeared in her eyes before quickly disappearing, and her jaw tightened. This shemlen, this warrior with the fiery temper, was afraid. What had the power to do that?

"It… would be easier to show you." Cassandra turned and strode through the open door, obviously expecting me to follow.

My eyes slowly adjusted to the sudden change in brightness. There was a pulse of unbearably bright light somewhere above us in the sky, and I was forced to shield my eyes for a moment to allow them to adjust. Once they had, I turned to see what the shemlen, Cassandra and Leliana, had been talking about. My jaw dropped.

I had seen many things in the thousands of years that I'd lived. But this… I had never seen anything like this before. When I was a child, there had been no Veil. No separation between the worlds of dreams and reality. I remembered those times vaguely, as though looking through a foggy glass. But those times were long gone.

On occasion throughout the years, I would happen upon a place where the Veil was thin, and I could almost see past the barrier and into the green world of the Fade, the land of the spirits. But this was not a faded Veil, it was a torn one. My heart sped in my chest, whether it was from fear or excitement I could not tell. I knew of only one person who had the power to do such a thing, and he had disappeared long ago.

"We call it "The Breach." It's a massive rift into the world of demons that grows larger with each passing hour," Cassandra began to explain. "It's not the only such rift. Just the largest. All were caused by the explosion at the Conclave."

I tore my eyes away from the Breach to stare in horror and fascination at Cassandra. "An explosion can do that?"

"This one did," she nodded solemnly. "Unless we act now, the Breach may grow until it swallows the world."

Another pulse of green came from the Breach up in the sky, and the  _thing_  on my hand flared to life, this time with a vengeance. I clenched my teeth to stifle the groan of pain that threatened to spill out, but I could not stop myself from hunching over into the snow. Creators, but it hurt!

Cassandra knelt before me and met my pain-filled gaze. "Each time the Breach expands, your mark spreads. And it is killing you. It may be the key to stopping this, but there isn't much time."

The key to stopping this?

"What do you mean, 'the key to stopping this'? I don't understand," I asked through gritted teeth.

"Closing the Breach," she said simply. "Whether that's possible is something we shall discover for ourselves. It is our only chance however. And yours."

My expression morphed into one of utter contempt and disgust. I wanted to scream at this shemlen for her foolishness. What was she thinking?!

"You cannot possibly believe that I did this! What sort of fool do you take me for, that I would do this to myself?!"

Cassandra pursed her lips. "It was obviously not intentional. Something clearly went wrong."

"And if I'm not responsible, shemlen?" The insult fell from my lips automatically, and I did not feel the slightest bit sorry for it. From her unchanging expression, she probably didn't even know what I said.

"Someone clearly is, and you are our only suspect," she said. "You wish to prove your innocence? This is the only way."

I stared at her for a moment before letting out a bark of laughter. Cassandra flinched slightly, surprised at the strange sound. I shook my head, grinning to myself over the absurdity of my situation. The burning pain in my hand was subsiding, and I pulled myself to my feet. Cassandra joined me, and by the way her wide eyes flickered over me, she had just noticed that I was taller than her.

My grin died as I opened my mouth to speak. "Well? What do you need me to do?"

Her eyebrows arched in surprise. She searched my face, disbelieving. The shemlen must have thought that I would say no, or something similar. How typical.

"Then…" Cassandra began, trailing off as she stared up at me.

I scoffed. "Do I look like I have anything better to do, shemlen? I might as well help."

Cassandra nodded, then reached out to grasp my arm and pull me forward, through the camp. As we walked through, the shems all looked up from their work and stared wide-eyed at me. Some sneered, some just looked on impassively, and a few openly gaped at me, fear written all across their faces. One particularly young shem shouted something incoherent at me and threw a ball of dung. It didn't hit either of us, but it angered Cassandra enough for her to turn her fiery gaze upon the boy. He shrank back into the shadow of his tent immediately. I almost smirked.

"They have decided your guilt. They need it," she explained. I rolled my eyes. Once again, how typical of them. "The people of Haven mourn our most Holy, Divine Justinia, Head of the Chantry. The Conclave was hers. It was a chance for peace between mages and templars. She brought their leaders together. Now, they are dead."

A mournful sigh escaped her. I eyed the enormous sunburst symbol on her armor, and realized for the first time that she must have known the deceased Divine personally. It was no wonder that she was so volatile.

"We lash out, like the sky. But we must think beyond ourselves, as she did. Until the Breach is sealed."

I quirked an eyebrow at her. "And then what happens to me, exactly?"

We reached a bridge and paused. Cassandra pulled out dagger from her belt, and in one slice, the ropes on my wrists fell away. Instinctually, I rubbed the areas where the rope had been just a bit too tight. I flexed my fingers. Freedom.

"There will be a trial. I can promise no more," she said solemnly. "Come, it's not far. Your mark must be tested on something smaller than the Breach."

My eyes narrowed, but I followed nonetheless. How the mark on my hand was supposed to be able to seal a  _tear in the Veil_  was beyond me. I knew no more than the shemlen, and this frustrated me. I've prided myself on knowing more than them, to be a first-hand witness to events and customs that they could only guess blindly at. This… I was in the dark with this, and I did not like it one bit.

We made our way up the path at a brisk pace. My muscles were a bit sore, from what exactly I had no idea. But I managed to keep pace with Cassandra's long, swift strides.

A pair of shemlen men came running down the hill and sped past us, faces pale and eyes wide in terror. One of them screamed that it was the end of the world as they passed, and I chuckled to myself. Cassandra glanced sharply at me, no doubt wondering if I was mad. I shook my head. Every disaster was "the end of the world" for the humans. After two thousand years of hearing that phrase repeated time and time again, it had become more like an inside joke than anything else.

I was just about to quell my grin when my mark exploded again. Pain burned in my hand and shot up my forearm. Caught by surprise, I cried out in pain and collapsed on the frozen path. My expression crumpled, jaw clenching to keep from screaming, and I cradled my arm to my body as though it were an injured puppy.

Cassandra appeared before me, pulling me back to my feet. She must've noticed the pain written across my face, because her eyes softened and she awkwardly patted my shoulder in a semi-reassuring manner. I imagined that being comforting wasn't her strong suite. I nodded gratefully, nevertheless. At least she was trying. Not many shems tried to be kind to an elf.

"The pulses are coming faster now."

"Really?" I said between clenched teeth. "I had no idea."

The look that Cassandra shot me was not impressed by my sarcasm, but she did not comment on it. Instead she silently held her hand against my back, making sure that I did not fall over again. When she saw that I could walk steadily again, she took her hand away.

We began to cross another bride, but just as we were almost across, the whole structure crumbled. The ground beneath my feet disappeared, and I found myself falling. I rapidly tumbled the short distance to the ground underneath, and I hissed sharply as my sore side slammed against hard ice. There was a loud crash up ahead, and I looked up to see a shade appear out of nowhere in the center of the frozen lake. I groaned and got to my feet.

Cassandra raced past me, sword in hand. "Stay behind me!" she commanded. Her blade flashed in the sunlight as she went toe to toe with the shade before her.

The ice before me bubbled and glowed green. I groaned and whirled around, searching for a weapon to use against the Fade creature that was no doubt about to form right by my feet. My lips pursed when I caught sight of a mages staff, and I ignored it. I hated using staffs.

The shade appeared, much like the last one before it, and, with a furious roar, it charged. Reflexively, I threw up my barriers and summoned a powerful bolt of lightning. It stretched out from my fingertips in an instant, catching the shade in its middle with a sound like the cracking of a whip. The shade twitched and spasmed as electricity travelled up and down its body, burning as it went. Then, with a guttural groan, it collapsed to the icy floor and vanished in a puff of smoke.

I glanced over to see Cassandra yank her sword from a shade's middle as it fell and disappeared. Her eyes fell upon the magic swirling around my hands and she advanced with a growl.

"Cease your casting! Now!"

I raised my eyebrows and forced myself not to roll my eyes. I was seconds away from protesting, but then I decided not to. The shem wanted to feel safe, and I could play along for the moment, provided we weren't attacked again.

"Fine." The currents of electricity vanished from my hands, and I immediately missed their presence.

Cassandra sighed suddenly. "Wait."

I paused, brows furrowing.

"It is wrong of me to expect you to be defenseless. Take the staff. You will need it. I cannot protect you at all times." She sheathed her sword and gave me a discerning stare. "I should remember that you agreed to come willingly."

"How kind of you to remember," I retorted. I strode past Cassandra towards the body and knelt by it, patting it down for weapons, potions, money, anything useful really. "Not that I don't appreciate the gesture, but I will pass on the staff."

"What are you doing?"

"Doing what all elves do," I replied with a nonchalant shrug.

"And what's that?"

Unable to resist, I turned to her with a wicked smirk. "Stealing, of course."

The curiosity melted off her face, and she let out a loud noise of disgust, sneering slightly. Cassandra crossed her arms and scowled down at me.

"We do not have time for foolishness, elf," she growled.

_Elvhen_ , I corrected her mentally, and I continued on searching the corpse. A moment later, I uncovered a handful of vials of health and lyrium potions, a sword and templar shield, a nicely made dagger, and a coin purse full of silvers and a couple sovereigns.  _Perfect._

With my newfound loot, I strapped the dagger to my belt, ignored the shield and shield, and trotted over to rejoin Cassandra where she stood scowling at an icicle, obviously annoyed at me ignoring her. I ignored her chilly glare and handed her a couple of health potions, grinning cheekily.

"There's always a little time for searching for more health potions," I said, then I turned to head down our new path, not bothering to look back at Cassandra.

"I suppose you are right," she relented after a moment of silence.

"Always the tone of surprise with you shemlen," I snorted, shaking my head.

"Why chose to forego a staff?"

I paused to let Cassandra catch up. I shrugged and tapped the dagger at my side, not really willing to explain myself. My fighting style was… odd, at best. After a while, I had given up explaining myself to everyone who'd asked. They never seemed to understand that my casting was abominable with a staff, rather than with my bare hands.

The next group of spirits and shades we came across were easily dispatched. Cassandra gave a shout of surprise when she saw me in the fray with a dagger in one hand and a spell in the other, but she chose not to comment on it when she saw that I was holding my own against the creatures.

As we progressed down our path, closer and closer towards the giant Breach in the sky, more and more shades, and even a few demons, appeared. The damned things were _everywhere_. It was getting a little ridiculous. Beside me, Cassandra was beginning to tire. Her movements were growing slower and less refined as we kept down the path. I could hardly blame her. I know I would have dropped of exhaustion by this point if I were a warrior like her, but my strength was founded on my magic and will, not my muscles. And my magic and will were much harder to exhaust.

Eventually, we came upon a strange pair fighting the demons and shades that were pouring out of a much smaller, but no less threatening, rift. The elven mage and the dwarven archer were doing an admirable job of holding them back, but they were beginning to lose ground against the creatures. Cassandra and I threw ourselves into the fight. I headed for the mage, who appeared to be on the point of being overrun as all the shades converged on him at once. If the elven mage was surprised by my sudden appearance and assistance, he gave no sign of it and continued to cast.

Within minutes, the ruins were clear of enemies, but the rift remained. A strong, long-fingered hand grasped my wrist.

"Quickly! Before more come through!"

And then my hand was being thrust skyward. Magic and energy exploded from the mark on my hand and leapt out to connect to the rift, but this time it didn't hurt. It felt good, as though the magic being released from the mark was poison being drawn from a wound.

There was a loud crack, like that of a whip, and the rift was gone. I stared, disbelieving, at where the tear in the Veil had been only moments ago. Then I turned to the elven mage who had just released my wrist.

He looked so… ordinary. Yet not at all. It was almost a paradox. The elf was completely bald, which only served to accentuate the cutting angles that made up his face. He was pale, as though he had not seen the sun in years, and there was a light dusting of freckles across his prominent cheekbones and straight nose. His face was striking, that was for certain, and I wasn't entirely certain if it was a 'good' striking.

"Wha-" my voice cracked. I cleared my throat before continuing weakly, cheeks burning. "What was that?"

The bald elf smiled gently, as though he understood that I was disoriented. His gaze, however, was sharp and searching. He eyed me as though I were a puzzle he was missing a piece to. If I had not been on the receiving end of such a look from countless others in the past, I would have missed it entirely.

" _That_  was you," he stated, smirking.

My eyes flickered over to the mark on my palm. The magic spewing from it had died down to a faint glow, and the pain was gone.

"Suuure," I drawled, deliberately side-eying the elf with suspicion. "And how exactly did  _I_  do that? I didn't do anything."

"When I studied your mark, I theorized that the mark would close the rifts in the Breach's wake. And it seems I was correct." Theorized? He did not have the look of a scholar, much less a Chantry one. His woolen, fur-trimmed clothes were rough and well-worn, and they gave him the appearance of some sort of simple woodsman. Not likely someone who would be theorizing the proper uses of obscure magic. But then again, I'd been wrong before.

Cassandra stepped in. "Meaning it could also close the Breach itself."

The elf's lips pressed together slightly. "Possibly." He then turned to me. "It seems you hold the key to our salvation."

I fought the urge to allow my eyebrows to shoot up into my hairline. Me? A savior? Not likely. I was no one's savior.

"Good to know!" came an oddly cheerful voice from behind me. "Here I thought we'd be ass-deep in demons forever."

I spun around. My eyes landed on empty air, and I was confused until I shifted my gaze downward slightly. I fought the urge to smack myself in the head, but I did not want to aggravate my concussion. That would have only made my temporarily slow wits even worse.

"Varric Tethras, rogue, storyteller, and, occasionally, unwelcome tagalong," the dwarf said, holstering a magnificent crossbow as he sauntered over to us. At the end of his introduction, he winked mischievously at Cassandra, who growled at him. I rolled my eyes.

"That's quite the resume," I replied with a faint grin. "Right now, we could use a rogue, if you're up to it. Storytelling might prove useful later when we're not fighting for our lives, though. The name is Halia, by the way."

Varric was about to reply when Cassandra cut him off. "Absolutely not! Varric's help has been appreciated, but-"

"Have you been in the valley lately, Seeker?" he chuckled. "You're soldiers aren't in control anymore. The kid's right. You need me."

_KID?!_  I bit the inside of my cheek to stop myself from cackling like a madwoman. If only he knew the irony.

Cassandra let out a disgusted huff, and stalked off a few feet further down the path. It was in that moment that the elven mage inched closer to me, and I noticed just how tall he was. He stood at least three inches above my own height, a feat of which only a couple of elves throughout my two thousand years could boast, since the Fall at least. Among my people, I was a giant, nearly reaching the shemlen's idolized six foot height. It was a fact of which I was proud of, a sign of who I truly was and where I really came from. And yet, this elven mage was still taller.

Again, the question pressed itself to the forefront of my mind, but I had no idea how to give it a proper voice in that moment.  _Who was he?_

"My name is Solas, if there are to be introductions," he stated with a pleasant smile. "I am pleased to see you still live."

Varric coughed behind me. "He means, 'I kept that mark from killing you while you slept.'"

I turned to Solas, interest more than piqued. Names were pretty, but too often meaningless. Who was he, really?

"Aneth ara, lethallin," I greeted with a friendly smile. "You seem to know a great deal about the mark. Where did you learn about it?"

My greeting caught Solas completely off guard. His sharp, blue eyes widened momentarily before zeroing in on me with great interest. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and he opened his mouth to respond. Cassandra decided to take that moment to cut in.

"Solas is an apostate. Well-versed in such matters."

I glared at her. "I am an apostate, and I know nothing about this. It's not like we apostates have annual meetings where we discuss our magical findings."

Solas chuckled. It was a soft, and oddly endearing sound that tickled at my oldest faded memories. Despite myself, my lips curled upwards into an involuntary smile.

"My travels have allowed me learn much of the Fade, more so than any Circle mage. I could offer much at these meetings, as I'm sure you could. The art of fighting with both a blade and magic at once is rare indeed." There was a teasing edge to his voice that made my eyes narrow slightly. He was mocking me. My smile grew. Whoever this Solas was, he was likely just as much a sarcastic little shit as I was.

I snorted in response. "You must be new at the whole apostate thing. At least I know not to say 'Circle mage' in the same sentence as my abilities. Theirs are abominable. It's alright though." I reached out and lightly patted his shoulder. "You'll learn."

If Solas was bothered by my mocking, he was masterful in his ability not to show it. Instead, his lips twitched, as though trying to hide a grin, and his eyes glittered in amusement.

"I shall keep that in mind."

There came a disgusted huff from behind me. I was beginning to wonder if that was the only expression that Cassandra could make, besides the occasional growl.

"If you two are quite finished," she ground out.

I blinked. "Oh, yes! Almost forgot. Hole in the sky. Very bad. We should get back to that."

"You forgot?!" Cassandra sputtered, flabbergasted. She had yet to realize that I wasn't serious. "Are you mad?! We are in the middle of a war!"

"Are we?" I mused, cocking my head and squinting up at the Breach as though I was trying to contemplate it. "Are you sure it's just not another regular Tuesday? Because it feels just like a Tuesday."

Varric burst out laughing. "For what it's worth, prisoner, I like you."

"You'd be the only one to say that today, so thank you," I replied with a smile.

"No more dawdling. We must move now." Cassandra's voice was firm and her tone brooked no argument, not that any of us had any to offer.

The four of us set off down the path. It seemed for a while that the journey would be made in silence. We came across more shades and wisps. They were easily taken care of, especially since we were four instead of two. For a while, it seemed that we would be making good time, but the mark on my hand had other ideas.

A particularly nasty pulse from the Breach caught me off guard, and I stumbled. Searing pain shot up my arm. I hissed sharply, but I caught myself and did not fall. A gloved hand touched my elbow.

"Shit. You alright there, kid?" The worry was evident in Varric's voice, and it surprised me. He did not even know me.

I did my best to ignore the pain in my hand, and I shot him a reassuring grin and a nod. The mark was still glowing, so he must have known that it was still paining me. His dark eyes flickered to the still-glowing mark, and his lips pressed together to form an expression that was both frustrated and sad. I patted his shoulder with my good hand and started walking again, ignoring the pain as best as I could. If I could survive two thousand years in this chaotic world, I could survive this damned mark.

"You are Dalish," Solas spoke when we managed to find a stretch of path that wasn't crawling with shades and demons. "But you are clearly away from the rest of your clan. Did they send you here?"

He was observant, I had to admit. No one else seemed to have noticed or cared, not that it mattered all that much. The world as they knew it was ending. There was no real reason for them to care yet, all things considered.

"Little gets past you," I remarked casually. "What do you know of the Dalish?"

"I have wandered many roads in my time. And crossed paths with your people on more than one occasion." Solas's tone was stiffer, and more vague than it had been a moment before. I frowned slightly.

"I take it that these crossing of paths did not involve tea and cakes, yes?" I eyed him carefully. Annoyance flashed over his face and was gone a moment later.

"Such peaceful interactions are impossible to obtain when the other party attacks for no greater reason than superstition," he replied smoothly.

I hummed to myself. "It's the wolf pelt, probably. Next time you 'cross paths' with the Dalish, don't wear so many furs. Most clans don't like it. No doubt they thought you would bring Fen'harel's wrath upon them if they were nice to you."

"I shall bear that in mind." Solas had yet to lose the stiffness in his voice. "Though I doubt they will be so willing to hear the knowledge I have to share, regardless. Their superstitions do not appear to allow room for it."

A laugh bubbled up and out of my mouth. The mark flared as another pulse came from the Breach ahead, cutting my amusement short as I struggled to hold in a scream. Varric rested his hand on my elbow, reassuringly. I shook my head as the pain died down.

"You have never been inside a Chantry then," I replied finally, through my teeth. "They're much worse when it comes to superstitions. Don't even get me started on the Circles. My people's fears can be foolish at times, but at least theirs did not start a goddamned war."

Cassandra muttered under her breath, but she did not say anything aloud. As part of the Chantry, no doubt she would disagree with me simply on principal.

"A fair point," Solas conceded after a moment.

"It's a miracle!" Varric exclaimed. "Two elves who agree on something!"

I grinned, but kept walking. My hand was beginning to throb, almost as though I had broken a bone, but I knew that was not the case. I clutched my hand to my side and waited for the pain to subside again.

Before too long, we came upon another rift. I chose not to draw my sword, and I focused all my will into casting. My left hand was in no condition to hold a weapon, and my right was not nearly as coordinated as the other. After centuries of long, hard practice, I had mastered many of the old elvhen methods of casting spells without a focus or a staff. It was simply easier for me. If I could not feel my magic between my fingertips, instead of channeling through a staff, then I almost always stumbled in casting any sort of complicated spell.

I remained behind with Solas as we cast. He caught sight of my unusual casting and raised a speculative eyebrow, but he made no comment. As a modern elf, no doubt he was unfamiliar with my methods. If he was confused, he gave no sign of it as I moved my arms and hands through the intricate patterns needed for each complex spell. My body vibrated and glowed as lightning danced harmlessly across the surface of my skin. Each bolt I flung at the creatures fanned the fire that was building in my magical core. Once it had reached its peak, I slammed my right fist into the stone tiles below my feet.

Purple lightning extended out across the ground in a flash. They sped harmlessly past my companions and struck the demons and shades all at once. Their twisted bodies went rigid and arched backwards as electricity burned through their corrupted flesh. They flailed like marionettes in a macabre dance, and, after a moment, they went still and collapsed to the ground, turning to shadow as they fell.

I let out a shaky breath, and my shoulders hunched slightly. That had taken more out of me than I had expected. Someone, I could not tell who, shouted that I use the mark. I shook my head to clear the fog in my mind, and I lifted my marked hand up to the rift. Just like the other rift from before, this one closed with a loud snap.

"Sealed as before," said Solas, a little out of breath from the fight. "You are becoming quite proficient at this."

Varric shouldered his crossbow. "Let's hope it works on the big one."

I bent over and rested my hands on my knees, already tired. That spell should not have used up that much of my mana, but it did. Something must have happened to me beforehand that drained my mana significantly. Something which I could not remember.

"We should keep moving," said Cassandra. "We're almost there."

Fortunately, she was right. The gates at the forward camp lay up ahead, and, in a matter of minutes, we reached the large wooden doors. The guards who had been watching our fight not so long ago immediately opened the gate for us. They openly gawked at me as though I were a golden goose. I ignored their stares. Years and years of practice had taught me not to be bothered by them.

We strode into the camp, and I immediately headed for the supply chest. The man guarding it gave me a suspicious one over before letting me rummage through the chest. A few moments later, I had stocked up on all the necessary potions and bandages. I quickly downed a lyrium potion and sighed in relief as my exhaustion melted away. I grasped another lyrium potion and held it out to Solas, who was healing a large gash on Cassandra's arm. He blinked at me in surprise, but he took it from me anyway with a grateful nod.

After we had collected ourselves, Cassandra led us further into the camp to a small table where the red-haired shemlen, Leliana, and another shemlen man in chantry robes stood. At our approach, the man looked up and a sneer came over his face as his eyes landed on me, or, more specifically, my marked hand.

"Ah, here they come."

"Chancellor Roderick, this is-" Leliana was cut off by the man in the chantry robes.

"I know who she is," he drawled, eyes glittering with malice.

_You really don't_ , I wanted to say, but instead I smiled benignly. "Since you seem to know me so well, I'd offer you some tea and cakes. Although, as you can guess, I'm all out."

"Be serious for once, prisoner!" Cassandra snapped.

"I'm glad you can find humor in these circumstances. Circumstances which you created!" the grand chancellor growled. "As Grand Chancellor of the Chantry, I hereby order you to take this prisoner to Val Royeaux to face execution."

My body went very still. Immediately, I began to pull on the well of magic that I had only just replenished with the lyrium. I noticed Solas glancing over at me with a look that resembled alarm. As another mage, no doubt he could feel the power that was building inside me. Briefly, I wondered if he would help me escape, or if he would try to stop me. Either way it wouldn't matter. I would not stay to be executed.

Cassandra bristled. "Order me?! You are a glorified clerk. A bureaucrat!"

"And you are a thug!" the man hissed. "But a thug that supposedly serves the Chantry!"

"We serve the Most Holy. As you well know," Leliana broke in, her eyes saddened.

Chancellor Roderick scoffed. "Justinia is dead! We must elect a replacement and obey her orders on the matter."

"Wait," I cut in suddenly, "are you saying that no one is actually in charge? The three of you are just throwing around commands in the hopes that one of them sticks?"

"You killed everyone who was in charge!" Chancellor Roderick's face had turned a nasty shade of purple. I raised an eyebrow at his accusation, but said nothing. These people already thought me guilty. Speaking up would only waste my breath. "Call a retreat, Seeker. Our position here is hopeless."

"No," Cassandra shook her head. "We can still stop this before it's too late."

"How? You won't survive long enough to make it to the temple, even with all of your soldiers," the Chancellor argued tiredly.

"We must get to the temple, Chancellor," Cassandra persisted. "It's the quickest route."

"But not the safest," said Leliana. "Our forces can charge as a distraction while we go through the mountains."

"We lost contact with an entire squad on that path!" she disagreed. "It's too risky."

"Listen to me," the Chancellor broke in. "Abandon this now before more lives are lost."

I watched passively as the three argued amongst themselves, each proposing ideas that were polar opposites of each other. It was laughable how they did not realize that they were getting nowhere. Each side believed strongly in their proposals, and no one was in charge to decide amongst them. I had come to the realization that this debate could go on for hours, when there was another pulse from the Breach.

Pain lanced up and down my arm, but it was not as bad as it had been before. I pursed my lips and glared unhappily at the green magic that burst from my hand as though it had a life of its own. Who knows, perhaps it was alive.

As soon as the pulse died down, I looked up to see that everyone was staring me.

"How do you think we should proceed?" I blinked owlishly at Cassandra, not really believing what I was hearing.

"You're not serious, are you?" I glanced around. No one cracked a smile. No one was joking. "I'm a nobody. Not to mention, I'm your  _prisoner_. Why ask me?"

"You have the mark," Solas pointed out.

I frowned at him. "That's hardly a good reason for me to decide their fate, lethallin. Especially since I'm currently waiting for them to decide  _my_  fate."

"You are also the one we must keep alive," Cassandra stated simply. Her expression turned slightly sour. "Since we cannot agree on our own…"

"You want me to be the tie-breaker," I finished. She hesitated but nodded after a moment.

I fell silent, shaking my head to myself in amazement. How did this happen? Even among the Dalish, I was not the Keeper, nor did I have any desire to be. I gave advice and watched from the sidelines, only getting involved when I had to. I was no leader.

Locking away those traitorous thoughts and forcing myself to focus, I eyed the mountain that Leliana was referring to, and then my gaze fell upon the field where shades and demons roamed, no doubt confused by the new reality that they found themselves in. Not unlike myself.

My lips pursed and my jaw set. "We charge, then. There's little point in sending men to die while we take the 'safe' route. We were able enough to make it here. We are able enough to make it to your temple."

Cassandra's expression softened momentarily before it hardened with resolve. She turned to Leliana and told her to bring the rest of the soldiers.

"On your head be the consequences, Seeker," the Grand Chancellor sneered as we passed him. None of us looked back to reply to him.

I rubbed the mark on my hand, frowning. My gaze was drawn back to the Breach up in the sky as we trudged up the snowy path. Soldiers rushed past us at all sides, but I paid them little heed. My focus was elsewhere.

Whatever had caused the tear in the Veil was old, and it was elvhen. I could feel the magic that poured from it tickle at my skin as we moved ever closer. There was something familiar about it. Something that tugged at me from inside. I paused, brows furrowing even more as I closed my eyes and reached out with my magic towards the tendrils of power that leaked from the Breach.

The moment I touched it, my eyes flew open in shock. Once again, my heart began to race, whether it was from fear or excitement it was impossible to tell. In that moment, the two emotions were one. I recognized that magic. It was  _him_.

A hand touched my shoulder, startling me. It was Solas. I stared at him, wide-eyed and anxious. He gazed down at me, more curious than concerned.

"Are you well?"

I nodded mutely. I did not trust myself to speak. My voice would shake if I did. I forced my feet to move. The world was a blur to me as we continued walking. My chest began to feel tight, and I fought to keep my breathing steady as my mind repeated one thought over and over and over:

_The Dread Wolf is here._


	3. Chapter 3

" _What are you grinning about now, Felassan?"_

_His smile turned vague and mischievous, and I fought the urge to groan. I knew that look far too well. He was up to something. Again._

" _Me? I have no idea what you're talking about." His tone gave the impression that he knew exactly what I was talking about, and he was having a hard time keeping his secret in._

" _I've known you too long, felasil. You couldn't hide a pin from me even if you wanted to," I pointed out smugly._

_Felassan laughed and fixed me with a wicked grin, violet eyes sparkling in the twilight. He fingered the amulet around his neck absently, a habit he always fell back on when he was deep in thought._

" _Too true," he replied. "But then again, neither can you. Don't think I haven't noticed the new scars on your wrists. Slavers?"_

_I shrugged. "Templars, actually. They've been getting more aggressive these last few years. I got to spend a couple of months in a Circle dungeon. Let me tell you, that was not fun."_

" _Ah, I see." Felassan's gaze turned a little sharp, but his tone remained light. "And did those templars survive the sunrise of your escape?"_

_My lips lifted into a feral grin, and I met Felassan's eyes evenly. "What do you think?"_

" _Good," he said, his good humor returning. "I would have been surprised if you hadn't."_

" _Not that I don't appreciate your attempt to distract me, lethallin. But stop distracting me and answer my question," I pressed. "You know that I don't like being kept in the dark."_

_Felassan stared at me for a good five minutes, weighing some invisible options in his head. I waited patiently for him to make up his mind. He would tell me. He always does._

_Finally, he chuckled. "You wouldn't believe me if I told you."_

_My eyebrows shot up to my hairline. I scoffed._

" _Considering all of the shit we've seen, that is hardly a problem," I protested. "Now what is going on?"_

" _For shame! What will the Dalish think when they hear you curse? An elvhen with a sailor's mouth? Unacceptable."_

" _Felassan…" I growled in warning. He laughed again. "Are you going to tell me or not?"_

_He sobered slightly. "Remember when I told you that one day, our people would have a chance to rise again?"_

" _Yes, if I recall correctly, you were laughing and mocking the Dalish while you said it. What does this have to do with anything? Don't tell me that you've found the next Dread Wolf," I scoffed._

_Felassan's expression did not lighten. If anything, it grew more serious. My own grin slid off of my face, and I stared at him with growing unease. A thought occurred to me._

" _You didn't just find another rebel," I breathed. "You found_ the  _rebel. You found Fen'harel, didn't you?"_

" _Not yet," he replied sadly. "But I have been hearing his voice call across the Fade. Wherever he is, he is waking from Uthenera. I'll find him before the year is out."_

_I couldn't speak. My tongue felt heavy, and my mind was racing. The Dread Wolf was coming back. He had survived the Fall. This news should have been joyous to me. Instead, I felt anxious and fearful._

_Two thousand years was a long time. I was not the same as I was then. Who was to say that the Dread Wolf had not changed as well? Who was to say that he still cared about us? I reached up to touch the whip scars on my back, evidence of my many unanswered prayers._

_No. The Dread Wolf had stopped caring a long time ago. Felassan would learn that soon enough. I only hoped that he learned it before he got in too deep._

" _I wish you luck, lethallin," I said with a forced smile, because, I knew, deep in my heart, that he would never listen to my warning if I gave it._

"Andraste's tits! How many rifts are there?!" Varric exclaimed from somewhere behind me.

Internally, I agreed with him as I ducked and weaved my way across the battlefield, throwing spell after spell at the monsters. My feet moved as though in a dance, drawing glyphs with my toes on the frozen ground as I leapt and spun through the fight. I had tried to stay back and cast from safety when the battle at this rift had started, but too many shades and fear demons had crawled out and had begun to overwhelm Cassandra and the soldiers, and they headed straight for Solas, Varric, and myself

So, with my hand still unable to hold a blade properly, I joined the fight, hoping that I wouldn't get slashed by a lucky blow. I was fast and light on my feet, but my armor was pitiful, I had no shield to hide behind, my left hand could barely make a fist without exploding in pain, much less hold my dagger, and my barriers only worked when I stood still. Essentially, my life was in the hands of fate, and I did not like that one bit.

Finally, the last demon fell and disappeared into smoke. I pushed my hand up towards the rift, and after a moment, the rift closed with a snap. I let out a sigh of relief.

"Lady Cassandra," came a clear, authoritative voice from behind me. "You closed the rift. Well done."

I turned and came face to face with a surprisingly handsome, blonde shemlen soldier.  _Officer_ , I amended when I noticed the fine craftsmanship of his armor and uniform. I eyed the the lions mane on his shoulders with envy. I was tempted to ask where he got it, as I had not seen a lion for the last eighty years, but that was not the time to ask. He did not seem to me to be the kind who would appreciate the question.

"Do not congratulate me, Commander," Cassandra stated, a little out of breath from the fight. "This was the prisoner's doing."

The commander's dark gaze dropped down to the magical aura still emanating from my hands, and his lips pursed slightly, as though annoyed. There was something in the way he held himself that struck me as familiar, but I couldn't place it.

"Is it?" he said stiffly. "I hope they're right about you. We've lost a lot of people getting you here."

The tone gave it away. The commander was a templar. Immediately, I ended the spell that swirled around my hands, and I stared back at him with suspicion.

"I make no claims on being your savior," I said, still watching him carefully. I really hated templars. "Although, I will do what I can."

"That's all we can ask." He turned back to Cassandra. "The way to the Temple should be clear. Leliana will try to meet you there."

Cassandra nodded. "Then we best move quickly. Give us time, Commander."

"Maker watch over you, for all our sakes," he said softly, and then he sprinted off to join the rest of the soldiers.

Once he had left, we advanced toward the ruined temple. I jumped down from a ledge to what must have been the temple floor. The scent of burning flesh hit my nose, and I caught sight of the many bodies strewn across the stone floor. All of them scorched into positions that easily showed their terror. Many had their arms reaching up to the sky, as though they expected a hand to appear and drag them out of their fiery fate. All of them had their mouths open in a wordless, soundless scream.

I shivered and continued on towards the Breach, hearing my companions coming up from behind.

"The Temple of Sacred Ashes," Solas stated, almost mournfully.

"What's left of it," Varric murmured under his breath.

Cassandra motioned to the entrance of the temple. "That is where you walked out of the Fade and our soldiers found you. They say a woman was in the rift behind you, but no one knows who she was."

I stopped to examine the spot she had pointed out. It was completely unfamiliar. I wracked my brain for a hint that I of what had happened at this place, but nothing presented itself. I huffed in frustration.

"They're not the only ones," I muttered.

More bodies lay across the floor as we moved forward. I covered my nose as the stench of death overwhelmed my senses, and I fought back an urge to gag. But the ungodly smell was soon forgotten when I stepped inside the temple.

The mark flared and sputtered, and the tickle of magic on my skin became like a million small needles scraping up and down my flesh. I winced, and I found my gaze involuntarily drawn skyward.

The Breach was even larger than I had anticipated up close. It hung high above our heads, perhaps a hundred feet high, and it emanated a cold, dark aura that felt utterly foreign, yet not. I stopped short and reached out with my magic towards the Breach. That had not been there before, or it had been too smothered by the Dread Wolf's magic to be seen.

I hissed and pulled back my magic the moment it touched the Breach. The power that bled into this spot seemed like the Dread Wolf's from a distance, but up close it was pale by comparison. Even worse, it felt mangled, twisted, dark, and almost… evil. Blighted.

No, this was not the work of the Dread Wolf.

"The Breach is a  _long_  way up," Varric commented, breaking through my thoughts only momentarily.

Leliana appeared, along with over fifty men at her back. Cassandra gave her an order, but I did not hear it. All of my attention was on the Breach. My brows furrowed in concentration as I struggled to put the pieces together. This was disturbingly similar to the Dread Wolf's magic, but the signature was not his. That only meant a handful of things. Either the magic had been stolen somehow, or the Dread Wolf had been possessed, or he had been Blighted and had gone mad. Theft would be virtually impossible. Possession, even more so. But the Blight… the Blight could consume anything, even a god.

The idea of a blighted Dread Wolf chilled me to my very bones, more than any blizzard ever could. I had seen the madness that the Blights could bring. The old Tevinter gods were bad enough once they had been blighted. But a blighted elven god would be terrifying.

Cassandra entered my field of vision, cutting off my worried thoughts. I blinked in surprise and focused on her.

"This is your chance to end this. Are you ready?"

No. "Yes," I lied. "I hope you have some kind of plan for how to get me up there? Maybe a scaffold?"

"No," said Solas from behind me. "This rift was the first, and it is key. Seal it, and perhaps we seal the Breach."

My lips pursed. "I understand that. But how am I supposed to seal something so high up that I couldn't even throw a stone at?"

"You should be able to, regardless of the height," he replied coolly.

"I'll have to take your word on that," I said with a frown.

" _Now is the hour of our victory. Bring forth the sacrifice."_

I froze, not entirely believing that I had heard. That voice… I knew that voice. A thousand lifetimes could pass, but nothing would make me forget that voice. A feeling like ice travelled down my spine, and I shuddered. Where had that voice come from?

"What are we hearing?" asked Cassandra, giving voice to my unspoken question.

"At a guess, the person who created the Breach," Solas replied simply.

_Created the Breach?!_ No, no, no, no, that couldn't be right. Without warning, I broke into a run. I heard Cassandra cry out for me to stop, but I kept going. I had to see for myself. My footsteps led me down a winding path toward the Breach.

" _Someone, help me!"_

The next voice was that of a woman, but there was nothing familiar about it.

" _Keep the sacrifice still."_

I vaulted over a ledge and landed on my feet in the courtyard below. The moment my feet touched the ground, the mark on my hand flickered to life, causing me to hiss in pain. I could hear my companions far behind me, calling my name, but I drowned out their voices the moment the rift began to speak again.

" _Someone, help me!"_

" _What's going on here?"_

My jaw dropped. That was my voice. Whatever had happened, I had been there. I had likely seen everything. Why couldn't I remember?!

A small pulse of energy came from the Breach, and the world turned gray. Two ghostly figures appeared before me. The first was an old woman in elaborate Chantry robes; her arms were extended out to the sides and bound with magic. The second was a dark silhouette that towered over the woman. Its features were indistinguishable, save for a pair of red, glowing orbs in the place of eyes.

Then another ghostly figure appeared on the scene, running up to the other spectres. Tall, blonde, pointy-eared, and wearing mercenary armor. The third figure was me.

" _What's going on here?!"_ my past self roared, then stopped short. I watched in fascination as my past self's face slackened in horror, then grew hard with determination and hatred. I had been scared. And angry.

" _Run while you can! Warn them!"_  begged the old woman. She must have been the Divine.

" _You?"_  the dark figure asked in clear amazement. Then, it chuckled. It was a dark, sinister sound that caused my hackles to rise. I knew that laugh. It was a sound I would never forget. " _You will not stop me this time, rattus."_  The voice changed, as though shifting its audience. " _We have an intruder. Restrain the elf. I want her alive."_

The world turned unbearably bright, and I was forced to shield my eyes. It was gone a moment later, and all that stop before me was the Breach.

"You  _were_  there!" Cassandra exclaimed from behind me. She stepped forward until she was right in front of me. "Who attacked?! And the Divine, is she…? Was this vision true? What are we seeing?!"

I opened my mouth but no sound came out at first. My thoughts were a swirling mess. This whole situation seemed so surreal, as though from a terrible dream. But this was no fevered nightmare. This was real.

"I don't know," I lied. How could I tell them that I suspected a man who died nearly two thousand years ago? "I don't remember any of what happened. It's gone. I don't…" My voice trailed off weakly. This was far beyond anything I understood.

"Echoes of what happened here. The Fade bleeds into this place," murmured Solas from up ahead. He was watching the Breach above us with a grim interest. Then, he turned back to the rest of us. "This rift is not sealed, but it is closed, albeit temporarily. I believe that with the Mark, the rift can be opened and then sealed properly and safely. However, opening the rift will likely attract attention from the other side."

My shoulders slumped slightly in exasperation at the thought of more demons to fight. I lightly touched the lyrium potion in my pouch, but after a moment, I pulled away. I did not need it.

"That means demons! Stand ready!" Cassandra called out to us and the rest of the soldiers.

I watched as the troops arranged themselves around the perimeter of the ruined temple, swords drawn and bow strings pulled tight. They seemed a formidable force, yet I did not feel at ease with them there. None of us had any idea what we were about to face, and I could not suppress the feeling that we were going to need more than fifty men for the fight that lay ahead.

Cassandra gave me a nod when the men were ready, and suddenly all eyes were on me. I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath. The Breach loomed over me, swirling and spitting out more and more green. Echoes of the dark figure's voice whispered through the air, and a sneer formed on my lips at the sound. Without hesitation, I thrust my left hand upwards toward the Breach, and the same strange magic erupted from the Mark.

For one small moment, I thought that the Breach was going to close with one try. That moment did not last long. There was a burst of green light, and a massive, hulking pride demon materialized below the Breach, lightning crackling around its body as it landed on the ground. Its head lifted, multiple black eyes taking in its surroundings. Then, it drew itself to its full height and roared.

I growled to myself in annoyance. Of course it had to be a demon that was naturally immune to just about  _everything_. I knew how to put a pride demon down, but I also knew that it would drain my already weak mana.

"Now!"

Dozens of arrows flew at the demon from all sides. They bounced off its hide as if it was made of stone, and the demon shook, as though shrugging off a small swarm of flies. Then, it charged.

I heard Cassandra call out something about stripping the demon's defenses, but I was already moving. My bare feet skipped over the wreckage that littered the floor, and, not for the first time, I thanked the heavens for my thick soles. Just as I had anticipated, the demon had not even bothered to track me, instead heading for the archers that had shot at it.

Standing far behind the demon, I pulled at my mana and began to cast. My feet moved, drawing glyphs on the floor beneath me as I weaved my body around in an intricate dance. Power built inside my core as the seconds ticked by. Then, with a herculean effort, I took hold of the power inside, using my will to mold it into the right spell. Just as I felt about to burst, I let it all out, and my whole body glowed as the magic rushed from me towards its intended target.

The pride demon froze as a white, glowing light covered its body, locking it in place. My companions and the soldiers paused momentarily, surprised that the demon was no longer moving, then they surged forward in their attacks. I saw Solas stop his casting altogether. He turned and caught my eye just as I slumped to the ground in exhaustion.

I weakly fumbled at my pouch for a lyrium potion as I sat on the ground. Suddenly, Solas was there, kneeling in front of me. Fade step, most likely. He lifted my chin, eying me with the calm, clinical gaze of a healer. At his touch, a little bit of my exhaustion melted away, and I sent him a grateful smile. I had forgotten how useful healing and spirit mages were to have around.

"Good work. That spell should last the better part of an hour," he said, taking the lyrium potion from my shaking hands and uncorking it for me.

"That was the plan," I replied, gulping down the potion. A little more feeling and strength returned to my limbs as the lyrium settled in my stomach.

"Indeed. When this is over, I must ask you where you learned that particular spell. It's very rare and difficult to master." Solas got to his feet once he saw that I was quickly regaining my strength. He held out a hand for me. "The fight is not over. Are you ready for more?"

I grinned up at him, feeling a great deal better. "Why? You're not feeling sleepy, are you?"

Solas rolled his eyes, but I could see that his lips were twitching slightly. I took the offered hand and pulled myself up.

"Ma serannas, lethallin," I said on reflex.

"Ra na banal." I paused, brows furrowing ever so slightly. There was something oddly familiar about they way he spoke, the way he formed the elvish words with ease. I shook myself. Now was not the time to ponder a stranger's pronunciation. There was a rift to close.

With the pride demon frozen in place, Leliana's soldiers began the long and arduous task of breaking through the creature's nearly impenetrable, natural defenses. Their weapons seemed to bounce off its hide, and I knew that any offensive spells would do the same thing.

"Use the mark. It may serve to weaken the demon's defenses," Solas commanded, motioning to the Breach above our heads.

I nodded briskly and lifted my hand upwards, willing to give it a try. Green exploded from it and extended toward the rift. There was a cracking noise, and then a low-pitched, strangled scream split the air. I flinched and swiftly turned toward the source of the sound.

Black blood sprayed across the stone tiles around the paralyzed pride demon, a horrible gash down its side. They had managed to wound it. A feeling of relief lifted in my chest, but it was squashed the very next second by the tell-tale screech of a shade from behind me. I felt Solas begin to cast, and I ducked and rolled away just as a clawed arm swung through the space where my head had been

There were four shades that had popped out of the Breach. The first two immediately headed for Solas, who appeared strangely calm and composed as he repelled their attacks. The other two paired up against me, including the one that almost decapitated me.

I pursed my lips into a thin line and drew my dagger from its sheath. My left hand still hurt, but the pain had become bearable. I could hold a weapon finally, and none too soon. Although I could easily dispatch the two with magic, my mana was, for some strange reason, easy to deplete. I had not needed to use more than one lyrium potion in over a millennia, and that unsettled me.

So, when the two shades began their advance, I rushed to meet them. I ducked under the swing of one shade and stabbed upwards into the creature's back, where the heart ought to be. It screeched and vanished into smoke. Lightning swirled around my fingertips, and I fired a bolt at the remaining shade, reducing the beast to nothing.

I glanced over at Solas, who had dispatched his opponents at the same time as me. He gave me a nod, urging me to use the Mark again. I returned the gesture, but, before I did so, I looked over at the pride demon and the shemlen surrounding it. Before my eyes, I could see their swords and arrows making smaller and smaller cuts as the seconds trickled past. The demon's defenses were returning.

I turned back to the Breach and lifted my marked hand. With a crack, the rift split wide open, showering me in green, blinding light. I hissed and backed up immediately, in case another creature fell out of the rift. This time, nothing happened.

There was another unearthly shriek behind me, likely from the demon, but I was not paying attention. I stared, mesmerized by the green, floating shapes that lay beyond the rift. Ever since the Fall, I had not seen the Fade with my own two eyes, and the sight took my breath away. It was more beautiful than I remembered. My throat tightened as a well of emotion rose in my chest, and in that moment, I wanted nothing more but to stay there and take in the strange, alien sights that were once so familiar to me.

But that moment was not meant to last.

A gauntleted hand landed on my shoulder and shook me out of my daze. I jumped, startled, and whirled around, my mouth curled into a snarl at the interruption. Cassandra blinked in surprise at my reaction, but she stood firm.

"The demon is dead. Close the rift! Now!"

My heart sank to the pit of my stomach at the thought of cutting off the Fade from the world, from me. Yet, I knew that it had to be done, for all our sakes. I consoled myself with the thought that one day I'd see it again. It was a lie, but it worked its magic and calmed my emotions.

And so, I forced my expression into a blank mask and stepped closer to the Breach. I lifted my hand upwards and felt the odd power connect my mark to the Breach again. This time it was stronger, more aggressive than it had been before, and I felt that this time would well and truly close the Breach.

I ignored the twinge of pain in my chest as I saw the hole in the sky become smaller and overwhelmed by green light. One day, I told myself. One day.

My strength began to drain as the Mark fought to close the Breach. I felt it latch onto my mana pool and begin to drain it dry. I bit my lip as pain coursed through my entire being. Spots began to appear in my vision, and it became harder to keep myself upright. Finally, there was a massive cracking noise that shook the air and knocked the air from my lungs, and the world went black.


	4. Chapter 4

The first thing I noticed when I opened my eyes was a wood ceiling above my head, and the second thing I noticed was that I was no longer wearing armor. I blinked a few times to clear the fog in my head, and I began to sit up.

I was lying on a bed in a small, modest cabin. There were a few pelts hanging from the walls, even a painting. The cabinets and shelves that were situated around the main room were filled with herbs and potion vials. Healer’s hut.

The door opened, prompting me to jump to my feet in alarm. In the back of my mind, I noticed that someone had put shoes on me while I slept. A small, willowy elf girl entered the cabin with a wooden box in her hands. She caught sight of me and squeaked loudly, dropping the box as she clapped her hands to her mouth.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t know you were awake, I swear!” she said, fear in her eyes.

I raised an eyebrow at her strange behavior. “I know I’m Dalish, but you don’t have to be afraid. I’m not going to eat you.”

“I-yes, my lady.”

“Where am I? How long have I been asleep?” I pressed, glancing around the room.

Then the girl did something entirely unexpected. She dropped to her knees and pressed her forehead to the floor, trembling slightly. I frowned at the gesture and stepped back. What in the void was this about?

“I beg your forgiveness and your blessing. I am but a humble servant,” she said, gaze fixed on the floor. “You are back in Haven, my lady. They say you saved us. The Breach stopped growing, just like the mark on your hand. It’s all anyone has talked about for the last three days.”

“Three days? So the danger has passed?” I asked, straightening up immediately. 

The girl began to get up from the floor, her gaze focused anywhere but my face. I wasn’t sure what I’d done to make her so… reverent of me, but it was beginning to get on my nerves. The Dalish clans I’d travelled with had known who and what I was from the beginning, and they’d tried to treat me as though I were above them. After a few weeks, they always figured out that I hated the worship. My immortality was not something to celebrate, I’d tell them. Usually it would include a bit more cursing and caustic language, but the message always got across, and they always stopped and treated me like normal.

Well, as normal as they were capable.

“The Breach is still in the sky. That’s all I know,” the girl replied nervously, backing away towards the door. “I’m certain Lady Cassandra would want to know you’ve awakened. She said ‘at once.’”

“I bet,” I muttered to myself, then sighed. “Where is she now?”

“In the Chantry, with the Lord Chancellor. ‘At once,’ she said.” And with that, the girl gave a slight curtsy and fled from the room.

I watched her go, frowning to myself. Hopefully that girl was the only one who was likely to lose her head when I walked outside. Otherwise, my stay, no matter how long or short, was going to be very annoying.

Shrugging, I turned to my feet, which were sporting a pair of soft leather boots. I rolled my eyes and began to pull them off, including the socks. Whoever had dressed me probably thought they were doing the poor, bare-footed elf a favor. The boots and socks were warm, and it was cold. I could feel the chill, even though there was a fire burning in the hearth. However, they were more of a hindrance than a help.

My mercenary armor lay in a pile in the corner, and I got up to retrieve it. It was a poor set of armor, but it was the best I could buy. It was also warmer than the beige pajama-like outfit that the shems had dressed me in. I quickly stripped and began to pull on the armor, ignoring the cold air as best as I could.

I grabbed a brush on a nearby table and began to drag it through my hair, starting at the bottom. I knew that three days of straight sleeping would cause my hair to get a bit matted, and I was right. Once my hair was no longer a mop of tangles, I pulled it back into a simple braid.

Satisfied that I was at least a little bit presentable, I opened the door and stepped outside. The sight before me stopped me short. My jaw dropped momentarily, but I shut it quickly, causing the joint to pop.

At least a hundred people were gathered at the base of the hut’s steps. The moment I emerged, they all grew quiet and raised their fists to their chests in salute. I stared dumbly at the crowd for several seconds, taken aback. Finally, I began to gather my wits, and I shook myself.

I descended the stairs, and the crowd parted before me as though I were a queen. Or a deity. My heart thumped unsteadily in my chest as I continued to step forward. 

I hated being the center of attention; it felt wrong to me. Perhaps it was a side effect of being a slave for so long. Being the center of attention never meant that good things were about to happen. The opposite was too often the case.

No one in the crowd said a word as they watched me pass them by. They all just stood there staring at me with their arms raised in the traditional salute. At that moment, I wanted to disappear, to rid myself of these eyes which were all fixed on me in awe and adoration. At Haven, the eyes did not bother me. They were different, accusatory and angry, which was something I could manage. This… I did not know how to deal with this.

The Chantry came into view, and I quickened my pace. The moment I reached the wooden doors, I breathed a small sigh of relief, and I pushed open the doors. The scent of burning incense greeted me as I stepped inside, and the dimness of the hall nearly blinded me for a moment until my eyes adjusted.

At the far end of the Chantry, there was a man’s voice, raised in anger. For a moment, I did not recognize who it belonged to, until I moved closer. I sneered. It was Chancellor Roderick.

I reached the door at the end of the hall, then I paused, took a deep breath, and unlatched the door. The moment I entered the room, Chancellor Roderick straightened up and glared at me with boiling hatred in his gaze.

“Chain her! I want her prepared for travel to the capital for trial,” he commanded, motioning to the guards on either side of me.

Before I could even react, Cassandra spoke up in a tone that brooked no argument, “Disregard that, and leave us.”

I let out a breath I didn’t even know I was holding as I watched the two guards exit the room. Chancellor Roderick glared imperiously at Cassandra and crossed his arms.

“You walk a dangerous line, Seeker,” he spat.

Something dark flashed in Cassandra’s eyes, and she strode over to the Chancellor, her features hard and angry. I watched a tiny flicker of fear spark in his eyes, and I almost felt sorry for the man. Almost.

“The Breach is stable, but it is still a threat,” she replied through her teeth. “I will not ignore it.”

“Nice to know that at least one person has not lost all sense of practicality,” I commented lightly, picking a stray thread off of my armor. “Does this mean that I’m no longer a suspect, or did I risk my life and put myself into a coma for nothing?”

“And yet, you live. A convenient result, insofar as you’re concerned,” Chancellor Roderick glowered at me.

My lip curled upwards, baring my teeth at him. “Oh, should I have died while I was saving you? Would that have finally made me innocent in the eyes of the Chantry? If not for this,” I lifted my left hand, “you fools would still be running around in mad circles, Haven would be lost to you, and you’d still have no way of combatting the Breach.” A thought occurred to me and a feral grin appeared on my face. “But of course, you already knew that. And it scares the shit out of you that you needed me.”

From the way the blood drained from Chancellor Roderick’s face, I knew that my statements had struck a nerve, and I allowed myself a small amount of satisfaction at seeing the irritating man fumble over what to say in response. Cassandra stepped in between us before he could reply.

“She is right. Without the prisoner’s aid, our situation would be far more dire. We did need her, and we still do,” she said to the Chancellor, her features stern and unyielding. “However, have a care, Chancellor. The Breach is not the only threat we face.”

The redhead, Leliana, suddenly appeared beside Cassandra, and I flinched. I had not noticed her presence before that moment. She was just so quiet.

“Someone was behind the explosion at the Conclave. Someone Most Holy did not expect,” she said, staring the Chancellor down with an intensity that was no less intimidating that Cassandra’s glares. “Perhaps they died with the other-- or have allies who yet live.”

The Chancellor was taken aback. “I am a suspect?”

“You, and many others,” confirmed Leliana.

“But not the prisoner,” he scoffed, jerking his chin in my direction.

Cassandra spoke up, “I heard the voices in the temple. The Divine called to her for help.”

“So her survival, that thing on her hand-- all a coincidence?”

“Providence. The Maker sent her to us in our darkest hour,” she stated simply, and I knew in that moment that she was being completely serious.

I cleared my throat. “You believe that your Maker sent me? Did my ears lose their tips while I was in a coma? I’m an elf. A Dalish elf.”

A flicker of disappointment appeared in Cassandra’s eyes. “I have not forgotten. No matter what you are, or what you believe, you are exactly what we needed when we needed it.” She turned and walked over to a bookcase in the room.

Leliana chimed in, “The Breach remains, and your Mark is still our only hope of closing it.”

“That sounds fair, I suppose,” I murmured.

Chancellor Roderick’s expression turned sour. “This is not for you to decide.”

Cassandra appeared at the table again, a large tome in hand. She shot one last glare at the Chancellor before slamming the book onto the top with a loud thud. I glanced over at the cover and noted the large, golden starburst symbol on the front.

“You know what this is, Chancellor,” she said, pointing at the book. “A writ from the Divine, granting us the authority to act. As of this moment, I declare the Inquisition reborn.”

My eyes grew wide, and my jaw dropped slightly. The Inquisition?! I remembered the old Inquisition well. A precursor templar order of crazed zealots. For a time, I had not been sure what was worse, the Inquisition or the maleficar they hunted, as neither of them were particularly worried about civilian casualties. However, for all their faults, they had brought order, even though it was a stifling one, and there had been many good and honorable people in the first Inquisition. Some of them had even been my friends.

Reviving the Inquisition would be… I was not sure what it would be. Perhaps it was madness, Perhaps it was brilliance. At that moment, I was unsure, and I could only gawk at Cassandra in shock.

“We will close the Breach, we will find those responsible, and we will restore order,” continued Cassandra, backing the Chancellor up against the door as she invaded his space. “With or without your approval.”

Chancellor Roderick saw the fire in Cassandra’s dark eyes, and, wisely, chose not to retort. He glanced over at me and Leliana briefly with a look of distaste, and he spun around and left the room, slamming the door as he departed.

My eyes followed the Chancellor as he left, and when the door closed, a low chuckle escaped me. I grinned at Cassandra.

“Damn,” I said appreciatively. “I take back all the nasty things I thought about you before. That was impressive. I thought he’d never leave.”

Cassandra blinked uncomprehendingly at me for a split second. Then her features twisted into an expression that was torn between irritation and amusement. Irritation won, and she threw me a glare that would’ve certainly reduced most people to sobbing puddles on the floor. Fortunately, I’m not most people, and I settled for smiling benignly at her.

“Do you ever take anything seriously, elf?” she growled.

“On the contrary, Seeker,” I replied mildly, pushing aside any witty retorts that begged to spill out. “I take many things seriously. For example, this talk of another Inquisition. I take that very seriously. Is this your solution to the Breach?”

Leliana spoke up, nodding, “It is. The the Divine gave us a directive, should darkness threaten our world again. ‘Rebuild the Inquisition of old. Find those who will stand against the chaos.’” She shook her head sadly. “We aren’t ready. We have no leader, no numbers, and now no Chantry support.”

“But we have no choice. We must act now,” Cassandra turned to me, “With you at our side.”

I shut my eyes and lifted my hand up to pinch the bridge of my nose. I took a few long, calming breaths before I opened my eyes. Leliana and Cassandra were watching me carefully, waiting for me to respond.

“This is beginning to sound an awful lot like a holy war,” I said finally, my expression stony. “Will there be an exalted march accompanying us? It’s been too long since the last one, after all.”

“Our aim is not conquest, but restoration. There will be no exalted march,” Cassandra countered. “Regardless, we are already at war. You are already involved. Its mark is upon you. As to whether the war is holy… that depends on what we discover.”

My lips pursed. She had a valid point. I was already involved, and it was too late to back out. I did not like this new situation anymore than I did before, but I knew when I had no other choice. Unless there was someone else out there who could close rifts… no. No, I had to stay. I had to help. It would be damned irresponsible for me not to, and while I was many things, irresponsible was not one of them.

“So once the Breach is sealed and order is restored, we will stand down? Like the last Inquisition? No more, yes?” I asked, watching the two of them for any signs of dishonesty. Especially Leliana. She struck me as unusually shifty.

“That is the plan,” Leliana replied.

Cassandra extended her right hand to me. “Help us fix this. Before it is too late.”

I eyed the proffered hand and glanced up at Cassandra’s expectant and hopeful brown eyes. Slowly, I lifted my right, unmarked hand and reached out to grasp hers, but I stopped halfway there and chuckled to myself. This was simply too strange. It was almost like a dream. I reached out entirely and took hold of Cassandra’s hand, giving it a firm shake. 

She smiled at me, and I knew then that this was the beginning of something that would change my entire life forever. And I wasn’t entirely sure how I felt about that.

The next few hours consisted mainly of me being relegated to a bedroom in the Chantry, while Cassandra and Leliana met with a couple of other important-looking people. One of them looked suspiciously like the templar I’d run into at the temple. I could hear muffled discussions in the war room adjacent to me, but my listening in turned up nothing interesting.

And so, with nothing better to do, I sat down on the bed, retrieved a spool of dark thread and a needle from one of my pockets, pulled off my somewhat torn mercenary coat, and set to work. There was not much that needed to be repaired, and so the work went by fairly quickly. Despite that, my mind began to wander back the Conclave, and I did not notice the footsteps approaching the room until the door swung open.

I jumped slightly and nearly stabbed my finger with the needle. It was Leliana, and she was staring at me with a rather odd expression on her face. It was then that I realized I was wearing nothing but a pair of trousers and a breastband. 

I fought the urge to snort. Shemlen were so uncomfortable with nudity, even partial nudity.

“If you don’t mind?” Leliana cleared her throat. I could tell that she was not some blushing Chantry sister, but she probably preferred me clothed anyway.

“Not at all. I was beginning to get a little chilled anyway,” I replied, smirking as I put the newly repaired coat back on. “What can I do for you?”

“If we are to work together, there are some questions I must ask you about your background,” she stated matter-of-factly. “It is standard protocol for new recruits. You are not exempt from this.”

Oh, this should be good. My eyebrows raised upwards in amused surprise, but I still shrugged in vague agreement. She wanted to be sure of my loyalty to the cause, and I had no problem with that.

“Go ahead.”

Leliana gave a small nod and sat on the chair opposite my bed. I shifted slightly and took that moment to get a proper look at the hooded redhead.

Her hair was short and fell around her jawline. Short and practical for combat. She was a fighter, much like Cassandra, but not quite. Compared to Cassandra’s muscular bulk and taller stature, Leliana was far leaner and quite a bit shorter. Yet, she appeared no less threatening to me. Smaller bodies can hold a deceptively large amount of power, and, as one of the Hands of the Divine, she must be powerful.

“We shall start with something easy,” she said, settling into the chair and crossing her legs. “What is your full name?”

“Mahalia Lavellan,” I responded truthfully. “Although I have gone by Halia since the age of four. Mahalia is quite a mouthful for a little child to pronounce, and Halia simply stuck.”

“At what point did you receive the brand above your left breast?”

The question caught me off guard before I remembered what she was talking about. Instinctively, I reached up to rub at ancient dragon brand that had stayed with me for most of my life. Even though it had faded considerably, it still remained and was prominent.

“Tevinter,” I replied. “I was a slave there for many years. I doubt you’ll find many records of me there. The Masters don’t really care enough about our identities to write stuff down about us.”

I could tell that my answer had piqued her interest. She was doing an admirable job of not showing it, but her eyes had sharpened and the curious gleam was unmistakeable. I was beginning to regret taking my shirt off without locking the door.

Vaguely, I wondered if the door even had a lock. If it didn’t, I would have to fix that. I had no desire for people to wander in and marvel at the marks on my body. My history was private. The years with the Dalish had made me grown complacent with hiding my secret from the shems. That had to be fixed as well.

“How long were you in Tevinter?”

I fought the urge to smirk. “Sometimes it feels like centuries. But really, I don’t quite know. The years have blurred together to the point where it’s impossible to remember.”

It was not a lie. Not quite the truth either, but not a lie. Perhaps it was my imagination, but I could have sworn that Leliana had caught on to my evasion of the question. She just sat there, staring at me like a still cat watching a mouse flit back and forth on the floor, waiting.

“And where are you from?” she asked, changing the subject.

“I’m Dalish,” I replied dryly. “I’m not from anywhere. We travel far too much to form any attachments to one place.”

Surprisingly, Leliana smiled softly. “No place of origin and no records? You are a spy’s worst nightmare. Although, you are not as bad as Solas. You, at least, have a clan we can contact.”

Perhaps it was because I had lived for so long, perhaps it was because I had known people much like her before, but the friendly smile and tone struck me as odd and not at all genuine. It was a calculated move, likely to get me to relax and speak freely.

I smiled back, although mine did not come even close to reaching my eyes. I knew this game well; I’d played it many times. Number one rule of all interrogations in my book: never engage in outside conversation with your interrogator. Answer the question simply and say nothing else.

And so, I said nothing, and the silence dragged on for several seconds. Leliana was still watching me carefully. I could tell that my lack of response had mildly surprised her, but it did not deter her.

“Where is your clan now?”

I shrugged. “Assuming a rift didn’t open over their campsite, they’re still about twenty miles east of Ostwick. They will move on in another two weeks.”

“This is Clan Lavellan, yes?”

“Correct.”

“You were born to Clan Lavellan before you were a slave in Tevinter?”

“Yes,” I replied. Where was she going with this?

Something in Leliana’s blue gaze shifted, and her lips quirked upwards. I watched the movement, noting that the motion this time was genuine. She had discovered something.

“Surely then, the others in your clan would recall how long you’ve been gone, would they not?” I almost stopped breathing. “After all, who could forget the loss of a treasured child, and the years between then and her return? You would know your age, yes?”

Fuck. She’s good.

“We measure our years differently from you humans,” I lied. “Instead of basing our calendar on the sun, it is based on the phases of the moon. In our measurement of time, I am thirty. I don’t really care about your measurement of time to figure out what my age is to your culture.”

It was a thin lie, but only for those who aren’t familiar with lunar and solar calendars. Their main difference is that the solar one has a few extra days. Someone who would know that would laugh me out of the room, or think I’m incredibly stupid.

Leliana smiled thinly, and brought up her hand, which had been resting on her lap in a closed fist. She opened her fist, revealing a small blue stone about the size of a plum. It was glowing.

I pursed my lips in irritation. “You do know that’s cheating, right?”

“I am not the one who decided to tell falsehoods,” Leliana replied coldly. “Now, are you going to tell me the truth, or shall I let Cassandra know that you’ve been telling lies? She is a Seeker of Truth, and her methods involve quite a bit of violence and breaking of bones.”

I eyed the Truth Stone in distaste and sighed. There was a moment of silence while I contemplated what I would say. I had not anticipated that a Truth Stone would be a part of the equation. They were so rare that I’d practically forgotten about their existence.

Either way, I was stuck. Tell the truth and risk being captured and experimented on? Again? Or spin more lies and be taken to a real interrogation, where my secret will be found out anyway? Both options led to the same outcome.

Why wait?

“Alright. You caught me,” I said, holding up my hands in a sign of surrender. “What do you want to know?”

“Where are you from?”

“The City of Arlathan.”

That caused a noticeable crack to form in Leliana’s finely crafted mask. Her brows knit together at my frankness, and she glanced down at the stone in her hand, which had yet to burst to life and radiate heat.

“You mean, the forest of Arlathan,” she said, attempting to correct my statement. “The city was destroyed by the Imperium millennia ago.”

I chuckled and leaned back against the headboard, linking my hands behind my head. The first reaction was always denial. This was the fun part.

“Oh, I know. I was there,” I replied, grinning broadly. The look of utter disbelief and confusion on her face was too beautiful not to be amused by. “Do you want to ask me my age now?”

“You are insane. Delusional,” decided Leliana, eyes wide. 

I scoffed. “Of course I’m insane. Do you honestly believe that I would live as long as I have without going a little crazy? Although, delusional is a little bit of a stretch.”

Leliana gawked openly at me, dumbstruck. No doubt the Orlesian Game had not prepared her for someone claiming to be an immortal from legend. To her credit, she gained control over her features quickly, and the mask was back in place. But she did not speak yet.

“In answer to the question you asked earlier, I’m approximately two thousand and seven hundred,” I said, still grinning madly at her. “I say approximately because I wasn’t lying when I said I don’t know. There are whole decades that are blurred out of my head. Time’s fucked up when you’re immortal.”

“You,” Leliana cleared her throat, “you can’t be immortal. Such a thing is impossible.”

I burst out laughing. “Really?! There’s a giant fucking hole in the sky, and you tell me that I am impossible? Child, you seriously need to broaden your horizons. Especially during this crazy time.”

She did not respond.

“What does your Truth Stone say?” I prodded. “Has it ever been wrong? Its purpose is to uncover who is not telling the truth. So, come on. What does it say? Is it hot or cold?”

Leliana hesitated for a moment before opening her fist again, revealing the small blue stone. It no longer glowed.

“It’s cold,” she replied, her voice low and hard to hear. Despite the emotionless mask she wore, I knew that I had scared her. “You are what you say you are. But… how?”

I was sorely tempted to say that I didn’t know, but that would have caused the stone to flare up. 

“I’m special,” I said lightly. The stone remained devoid of light.

There was a knock at the door that drew both of our attentions. A thickly accented, slightly irritated Nevarran voice called out from the other side.

“If you are quite finished with your interrogation, our commander and ambassador are ready to meet with us.”

“We shall only be a moment,” Leliana called back.

She stood up from her chair and returned the Truth Stone to a pouch underneath her long, chainmail and leather tunic. 

“So, what are you going to tell Cassandra?” I asked, genuinely curious. 

“That you are not a threat,” she replied simply.

“Really?”

Her gaze snapped over at me, and I found myself the subject of two very cold, piercing blue eyes again. If I had not been as old and experienced as I was, I would have been terrified of this human woman. As it was, I was merely amused.

“You are here to help us close the Breach,” she said, crossing her arms. “I understand your desire for secrecy, as there are no doubt those who would wish you ill, if they knew. The fewer who know, the safer you are. And I have no desire to put the Inquisition’s best asset in such jeopardy.”

“Thank you, Leliana,” I smiled, sincere in my thanks. “Not many humans would agree to keep this quiet. I know this is for the betterment of the Inquisition, but still. I am grateful.”

Leliana gave me a curt nod before striding towards the door. Just before she reached the handle, a thought occurred to me, and I turned towards her.

“Before you go, does Cassandra know that you use a Truth Stone?” I asked. I kept my expression innocent and blank, but inside, I was cackling.

The glare I received was positively frigid. “No. Nor does she need to.”

I tsked at her, smirking with barely contained glee. “How naughty of you, Leliana. Using a contraband Tevinter artifact for doing the Maker’s work. Well, it’s an elven artifact repurposed by Tevinter, but that’s virtually the same thing. Did you use it on me when we met?”

“Yes.”

I nodded in understanding. “No wonder you pulled Cassandra off me when she attacked. You believed me. I suppose I should thank you for that too. Now that I think about it, I ought to make a list.”

There was another knock on the door, this time more urgent. Leliana rolled her eyes at Cassandra’s impatience and opened the door. As she strode out, she called back over her shoulder, 

“Save your gratitude for when this is over.”

And she was gone. I blinked at the empty doorway where she’d just been standing. I wondered what could have happened to her that had turned her so cold. There was a time long ago where I’d been that way. Before I’d learned to accept the ridiculous and cruel ironies that seemed to govern every aspect of life.

“Are you ready?”

I glanced up. Cassandra stood in the doorway, looking down at me expectantly. I grinned up at her and stood. 

“As ready as I’ll ever be. Let’s go.”

**************************************

The Herald of Andraste. Fucking idiots.

I stormed out of the Chantry, caught sight of a small group of recruits who saw me and saluted, and I veered hard to the left. I had no desire to deal with naive, excitable Andrastians who saw me as their savior. I was no one’s savior.

There was a group of small cabins ahead that looked fairly deserted and quiet, and I immediately headed towards them. Perhaps I could hide behind one and take some time to collect myself before I had to deal with the zealots again.

I had just entered a clearing in between three cabins, when a smooth, velvety voice from behind me spoke up.

“The Chosen of Andraste. The Blessed Hero meant to save us all.” The tone was not mocking. Well, not entirely. But there was a definite edge of amused teasing to the words.

I groaned and rolled my eyes as I turned to face Solas. He stood with his hands clasped behind his back, and his head cocked slightly to the side, as though he was considering something about me carefully.

“Oh please, not you too,” I griped before I could stop myself.

His dark auburn eyebrows rose slightly, surprised. “I take it that the title does not agree with you.”

“That’s one way of putting it.” I sighed deeply and shook my head. “I’m not a hero. I don’t want the humans to write songs about me and give me fancy titles. I just want to seal the Breach so that we can all go back to our lives.”

“Pragmatic. But ultimately, irrelevant,” commented Solas.

I snorted. “You’re right. They’re going to write songs and give me titles anyway, but still. I hope they at least depict us properly in their songs and artworks. I don’t know about you, but I’d rather not be given the same treatment as Shartan.”

“You believe that the Chantry will erase that we are elves?” questioned Solas. “And interesting theory. That would surely be difficult, as we are here to refute such claims.”

I shook my head. “Oh it won’t be immediate. It’ll happen slowly, with one step at a time. First, they’ll cover up our feet with boots in their artworks,” I motioned to our equally bare toes. “Then, they’ll conveniently forget that I have vallaslin. Then, our ears will become progressively smaller and rounder as time goes by. At last, it will be decided that our skills as mages are too dangerous to be taught to the populace, and they’ll make sure we’re carrying broadswords instead of staffs. And there you go, we have been given the Shartan treatment. 

If you don’t believe me, go anywhere in Orlais where there’s a statue or mural of Shartan. His ears have been cropped in every single one. Some of the croppings are really poor too.”

Throughout my impassioned speech, Solas listened with careful interest, and he seemed unsurprised at what I was saying. Perhaps he had already seen the depictions of the old elven hero. 

“You are right, of course, if the past is anything to be learned from,” he said when I was done, and I was momentarily taken aback by how easily he agreed with me. Most people liked to argue with me when I made speeches. “However, it is impossible to know how history and time will shape your legend. Especially now at the beginning when we have barely begun.”

I pursed my lips in slight annoyance at his mild rebuttal, but I had nothing to respond with. He was correct. I did not know what would happen, but I could guess with relative accuracy.

He slowly sauntered past me, and he stopped at a stone wall adjacent to a flight of stone stairs. Solas gazed out over the small town of Haven, watching the new recruits scramble across the complex. 

“I have journeyed deep into the Fade in ancient ruins and battlefields to see the dreams of lost civilizations,” he began softly. His smooth, accented voice gave his words a musical quality that was pleasant to listen to, and I found myself drawing nearer to hear him better. “I’ve watched as hosts of spirits clashed to reenact the bloody past in ancient wars, both famous and forgotten.”

Solas turned back towards me, watching me with the same curious and scrutinizing look that he gave me before. 

“Every great war has its heroes. I’m just curious what kind you’ll be.”

Ancient ruins and battlefields? The dreams of lost civilizations? No, he can’t be. Can he?

“Are you…” I hesitated, not entirely certain how to proceed. It has been so long since I’ve met a mortal dreamer. “Are you, by any chance, a Somniari?”

“I am, yes,” Solas replied. He smiled. “I see that you have heard of the skill. Few have.”

I grinned cheekily up at him. “That might be because I am one too.”

The smile dropped from Solas’s face, and he stared at me with wide-eyed astonishment. Then, slowly, the smile returned again. His eyes practically glittered with interest and curiosity.

“That is extraordinary,” he said, his enthusiasm careful but clear. “I have not met many other dreamers, and even fewer who have heard of us.”

“Other than my brother, you’re the only other Somniari I know of,” I admitted. “I’d be interested in hearing about some of the memories you’ve uncovered. I don’t ‘dream’ as much as I used to. Most of the memories I’ve seen were unbearably depressing, so I stopped after a while. Hopefully you had better luck.”

“I would be happy to share them with you. I do have quite a few stories that are not ‘unbearably depressing’, as you say,” Solas agreed, still smiling softly. “Although you are right. More often it is just sad to see what has been lost. But the thrill of finding remnants of a thousand year old dream? I would not trade it for anything.”

He looked away suddenly, and his expression became far more serious.

“I will stay then. At least until the Breach has been closed,” he said with finality, as though he had only just decided that.

I frowned at him. “Was that in doubt?”

His eyes narrowed slightly. “I am an apostate mage surrounded by Chantry forces, and, unlike you, I do not have a divine mark protecting me. Cassandra has been accommodating, but you understand my caution.”

Yes, I did understand his caution. Without the Mark, I would have run far away from this place, provided I had not been blown to little bits. I would likely not have taken the risks and stayed to help, like he did. And yet, he was in more danger here than I was. That did not strike me as right.

“You came here to help, Solas. I won’t let them use that against you,” I stated firmly.

He raised a brow in question. “How would you stop them?”

I lifted my chin up as I looked him straight in the eye and said, “By whatever means necessary, Solas. You may not be Dalish, but you are still my kin. I will protect you.”

Solas’s mouth fell slightly open, and he stared openly at me, clearly taken aback. At this point, I was beginning to wonder if that was going to be his usual expression when he dealt with me.

“Thank you. That is unexpected.” 

I smiled at him gently. “Don’t mention it. We crazy elves must stick together.”

“A curious sentiment, but I am thankful for it,” Solas chuckled. “But now, let us hope that either the mages or the templars have the power to seal the Breach.”


	5. Chapter 5

I woke from sleep with a strangled gasp on my first official night in Haven. Even though it was frigid in the room I was in, my body was drenched in sweat. My head pounded mercilessly from the strain of pushing unwanted memories and dreams from my mind all night. That was new.

A permanent tingling sensation had settled into the palm of my marked hand, and I couldn't help but wonder if perhaps my struggles stemmed from the Mark's magic. Gently, I probed at the sliver of green light that emanated from my palm. It pulsed softly, like the heartbeat of a living thing, but it did not grow or radiate pain. It made its presence known, nothing more.

Dissatisfied, I huffed and got to my feet. One peek out the shuttered window told me that dawn was still a few hours off. The night sky was was cloudless and glittered with thousands of stars. The moon flew high in the sky, showering silver light upon the sleeping makeshift fortress.

All seemed quiet and peaceful, except for me. My body ached from inactivity, and my mind was restless with anxiety. There was no possible way that I would be able to go back to sleep that night.

I padded over to the chest where I had placed the new armor and winter clothing that I had been given by the armorsmith, and I pulled out the thick pelt coat and trousers, I and began to dress.

My reflection caught my eye when I was finished on a small wall mirror, and I paused to stare in fascination. Simple luxuries, such as mirrors, were very rare among the Dalish clans, and so I had gotten used to not knowing what I looked like, unless I came across a reflective pond or a well-polished metal shield. All of which were incredibly distorting and never gave an accurate picture.

I traced the lines and jagged gouges that had once been impossible to ignore, and I smiled softly in relief. Now, after centuries, they had faded until they were barely visible. Coupled with my vallaslin, which was easily my most noticeable feature, I doubted anyone even noticed the ancient scars anymore.

For that, I was glad. While I would never be counted among the ultimate beauties of Thedas, I knew that there was something in the sharp, high angles of my face that was aesthetically pleasing to look at. The scars had marred that, and now they were finally on the verge of being gone. There was little use for beauty in the wilderness, but I was not in the wilds anymore.

I ran my fingers through my hair once and left it alone. It did not matter to me if anyone saw me, so I did not care if my hair ran wild.

I half expected guards at my door, preventing me from 'escaping'. I was pleasantly surprised to find the great hall completely quiet and empty. A few crimson candles burned as leftovers of a late Chantry service, but other than that, there was nothing.

For several long seconds, I stood completely still, waiting and listening for a noise, any noise. Still, there was nothing but the faint blowing of the wind outside.

Satisfied, I tip-toed down the long, wide hallway, taking care to keep my every footstep silent. It was difficult to imagine why anyone would try to stop me from taking a walk, but experience taught me to be careful anyway.

As soon as I stepped outside, icy winds seemed to accost me from all sides, chilling the sweat that dampened my skin from before. The throbbing in my head lessened a little bit at the sudden change, and I let out a long, relieved sigh as I stood in the outdoor air.

My hair whipped around my face, and I felt a sudden impulse to run. So I did. There was no one here to stop me, no one here to even notice me go. My bare feet guided me around and past the dozens of cabins and tents that stood between me and the world outside.

The gate veered into sight, and with it, a guard. I slowed to a walk but did not stop. The guard stood leaning against the stone wall, his head bowed in sleep. I reached the gate and carefully pried it open.

Unfortunately, whoever was in charge of maintaining the fortress had decided not to oil the hinges on the main gate. As soon as it budged even a few inches, it let out a horrendously loud screech that threatened to claw out my eardrums. The guard woke with a start and fumbled for his sword before he noticed me.

"Hold there, elf!" he commanded sharply. "No one is allowed in or out at this hour. Return to your quarters now."

I raised my eyebrows at the man. Clearly he had not recognized me as the Herald. Normally, I would have been delighted by this, but at that moment, it only irritated me.

"Why?"

"It's not for you to question, knife ear," he growled threateningly. "Return to your quarters before there's trouble."

"What if I say 'no'?" I asked casually, pretending to ignore the thinly veiled threat.

The guard sneered. "Then I'll have to drag you back by your filthy little ears. Now get!"

I blinked owlishly and pressed my palm to my chest in an affronted manner. "Filthy? But I just washed them! You're the one who's filthy. You humans only wash once a year."

"Wha- You little bitch! Have it your way." He snarled and advanced towards me, sword drawn.

I let him get as close as three feet before I reached up and made a fist. The guardsman halted abruptly and began to claw at the invisible vise around his neck. Power flooded my system, begging to be used, and my body felt close to vibrating. I met the terrified guardsman's eyes and smiled softly.

"Perhaps you hadn't heard," I began, keeping my voice calm and casual. "My name is Halia, and I kept the sky from completely ripping open earlier this week. As I'm sure you're aware, it's been a rather trying past few days. I've been cooped up for far too long, and it's affecting my sleep. And when I can't sleep, I become very, very irritable. Do you know how I plan to ease all of that?"

Even in the dark, I could tell that the guardsman was turning purple from lack of air. He shook his head and continued to choke and sputter.

"I plan on having a nice little run about in the hills for an hour or two to calm my nerves. Maybe I'll stare at the Breach and wonder how the fuck I got in this situation to begin with." I shrugged. "I don't know. I'll figure out what I'll do once I'm there. As the Herald of Andraste, whatever that means, do you have any objections to me taking a midnight stroll that you would like to voice?"

He shook his head vehemently this time. Immediately, I released my hold on the man, and he quickly sucked in deep, rattling breaths of air.

"Excellent! I shall return in a few hours." I swung the door open all the way, but before I stepped through, I turned back to the guardsman who was still trying to catch his breath. "And if I ever hear you call me a knife-ear again, I'll finish what I started here. Understand?"

My tone was light and friendly, but the guardsman still flinched back and nodded shakily, rubbing at his throat. I flashed him a bright smile, winked, and strode through the gateway and into the world beyond.

A sea of white tents stretched out on the plain before me, all ordered in perfect rows. Beyond the tents was a frozen solid lake, and beside the lake was a forest.

Perfect.

Before anything else could pop out of nowhere and stop me, I broke into a full on sprint towards the tree line. As soon as I brushed past the first set of furry branches, I let out a deep exhale and pushed my legs to run faster.

The snow was deeper in the forest, and the cold tickled at my toes and ankles but did not slow me down. My loose hair whipped out behind me in the freezing wind like a horse's tail. For the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to revel in the feeling of pure, unadulterated freedom, and I ran.

I slowed when I reached a large clearing at the base of the mountains. A small herd of druffalo lay up ahead, their heads bowed in a standing sleep. Deciding not to disturb the herd, I stopped altogether and leaned against a nearby pine tree, panting from the exertion.

The light of the Breach caught my eye, now that I was no longer in the forest. Against my better judgement, I found myself staring up at it. I marveled at its size, even from miles away. If it did not threaten the world with its very existence, I would have been enamored with it.

Even from here, I could feel its power radiating that enormous rift, almost like the warm rays of the sun. Except there was nothing warming about the Breach.

Sethius.

The name entered my mind unbidden and undesired. I sucked in a sharp breath and ground my teeth together furiously. Even after a thousand years, that name still caused my heart to clench in pain.

My back touched the tree trunk, and I slowly slid down it until I reached the frozen ground. My head fell back against the rough bark. I closed my eyes, not wanting to look at the Breach anymore.

The boy I had known as Master Sethius was long gone, replaced by a far darker creature. It would always be difficult for me to bear what had happened to the once kind, compassionate, and loyal child who I had been tasked with raising. He had always been a noble and innocent soul, and he had cared deeply for all around him, including me. However, no soul that has traversed the marble tiles of the Magisterium has ever returned unscathed, and so it was with Sethius.

Corypheus had taken his place in those cold, marble halls. Long before he and his fellows had breached the Fade, I had watched the slow, irreparable descent from Sethius to Corypheus. I had watched as kindness twisted into cruelty, a love for knowledge into blind ambition, and genius into madness. And then the Blight had made it all so much worse.

I let out a shaky breath and raked my fingers through my hair. I thought I was done with all of this. Done with the shit that House Amladaris put me through, done with Sethius and Corypheus. The Wardens had sealed him away, promising that it was permanent. I had believed them and allowed myself to move on.

But now, after hearing his voice in the Breach, I knew that I had not escaped him. Not fully. Maybe I would never be truly free.

I stopped that thought immediately and lightly banged the back of my head against the tree. I was free. I had been free for nearly two thousand years, and I would not let anyone, especially not Sethius or Corypheus, take that from me. Not ever again.

The cold had already begun to seep into my limbs from the snow and wind, turning them numb. I pushed myself back to my feet, brushed off the powdery snow, and began to make my way back through the forest. I did not want to head back to Haven yet, but I knew that I had to if I was to return before sunrise. My feet had carried me farther than I should have gone in my quest to get some fresh air.

The moon had sunk close to the horizon by the time I reached the frozen lake. On the opposite bank, I spied in two figures in the moonlight. I squinted. No, one figure and a sack dummy. Who would be training with a dummy at this hour of the night?

I prodded the ice with the soles of my feet, testing whether it would hold my weight. When it neither cracked nor moaned under my feet, I stepped onto the ice and made my way up to the figure.

Before I had even reached the other side, I realized that it was Cassandra. I hung back a few yards and watched curiously.

Instead of her usual Seeker armor, she wore what seemed like a simple shirt, trousers, and boots. Yet, despite the cold, a thin layer of sweat glistened on her skin in the silver light. Her short hair was unusually messy, as though she had just rolled out of bed a few minutes prior and had forgotten to comb it.

She wielded a rather hefty longsword, attacking the benign training dummy with a ferocity and a determination that was part frightening and part hypnotizing. With each powerful strike, the dummy suffered a massive gash or lost a vital limb. Finally, with a roar, Cassandra whirled and struck, cleaning decapitating the poor construct, and the whole thing collapsed in a heap of ripped sackcloth and splintered wood.

Despite my earlier mood, I chuckled at the sight. The sound startled Cassandra, and she turned swiftly towards the noise. Her body sagged slightly with relief when she saw me, but then it suddenly stiffened into a straight line.

"You ought to requisition some stronger dummies from the quartermaster, Seeker," I said with a smirk. "That one looks a bit… poorly."

"That would be nice," she muttered, sheathing her sword. "If we had the funds."

I said nothing and watched as she moved to another dummy beside the destroyed one. She drew her sword and started her exercise all over again. Frustration and anger colored her every step and swing. Her face was screwed up in a silent snarl. At this moment, I doubted that humor would help her.

On the ground behind Cassandra lay an open chest of dull practice swords. I picked one up, gave it a twirl, and grimaced at the feel. It was horribly unbalanced and far too heavy to be effective in a fight. I dropped it and picked up another beside it. The weight and balance was much better, but it was still a terrible sword. I shrugged before purposefully moving it to my right hand. It would do for the moment.

"Did I do the right thing?" Cassandra asked suddenly, her back still to me. She stopped hacking at the dummy and eyed me over her shoulder.

"Was there something else you should have done instead?" I replied, quietly twirling the practice sword as I moved closer. "Your Divine was murdered, your Conclave destroyed, and the sky now has a giant hole in it. You only had a few options before you, and most of them involved retreat. You chose the best option, Seeker."

"Did I?" She turned to face me fully. Her dark eyes seemed almost black in the moonlight. "What I have set in motion could destroy everything I have revered my whole life. One day they may write about me as a traitor, a madwoman, a fool, and they may be right."

I shrugged. "Perhaps you will. Perhaps you won't. We have no way of knowing what will happen when this is over, or if it will ever be over. We do what we think is best and move from there. I believe that you made the best choice. What do you believe?"

"I cannot afford such flippancy," she ground out, taking another swing at the dummy. "I believe that you are innocent. I believe more is going on here than we can see. And I believe no one else cares to do anything about it. They will stand in the fire and complain that it is hot." She paused and sighed. "But is this the Maker's will? I can only guess. I suppose that you are right on the second account."

"Nice to be appreciated," I smiled.

Cassandra huffed. "I suppose that I am partly to blame for that. My trainers have always said, 'Cassandra you are too brash. You must think before you act.' I see what must be done, and I do it. I see no point in running around in circles like a dog chasing its tail.

"But I misjudged you in the beginning, did I not? I thought that the answer was before me as clear as day. I cannot afford to be so careless again."

"I can't say that I'm not grateful to hear that. You can make life very difficult when you want to," I replied lightly.

Her eyes narrowed slightly, but a soft smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. She seemed almost… embarrassed.

"I can be harsh. I know." Cassandra put down her practice sword and turned to leave.

"Done already?"

She stopped and glanced over her shoulder at me, confused. I merely gestured at the sword she had put down, as well as the one in my hand, and I watched her expectantly.

"What?"

I shrugged. "No one gets up in the middle of the night to exercise unless they need to blow off steam. If that's why you're here, I can help. I can't sleep either."

Cassandra eyed me speculatively, considering my offer. Then, after a long moment of silence, she nodded and moved to retrieve the practice sword.

"No spells?" she asked.

"No spells," I agreed.

Without warning, Cassandra lunged forward and swung. I quickly blocked. The move was a little clumsier than I would have liked, but it worked. Cassandra wasted no time and struck again, and again, and again. Each move was faster and more powerful than the last, and I could do little else but block and dodge. Even then, I knew that she was holding back on me.

She was good. Very good. Masterful, even. But then again, that was not so surprising. She was a Seeker, after all.

The flat of her blade connected with my side a couple of times with a painful smack. I hissed at the stinging sensation and danced out of Cassandra's reach. With a sword, and with my wrong hand, I was not much of a match for her standing still.

I remained always a foot or two out of the reach of her sword. It was a stance that was much harder to maintain than I had originally thought. Wherever I went, Cassandra followed like a shadow with a ferocious growl, her blade flashing in the darkness as she attacked. I was fast and light on my feet, but so was she. I knew that it wouldn't be long before she overpowered me.

She must have realized that I wasn't even trying to attack, because she stepped back, paused, and looked me over with a critical eye.

"You were not this passive at the Temple of Sacred Ashes," Cassandra noted with a frown.

I blocked a jab to my ribs and leapt back, panting slightly. "That's because I'm not right-handed."

Before I could think better of it, I took my first swing at Cassandra. She dodged easily and retaliated with a stronger blow that jarred my arm when I blocked. She huffed in irritation.

"Why would you use your wrong hand?" she asked, frowning. "That seems counter-productive."

"It's good practice," I replied with a cheeky grin. "Am I boring you?"

Cassandra shot me a frustrated glare. "You are."

I laughed at her expression and leapt back, and out of reach. Quickly, I switched sword hands and bowed deeply. My lips curled up into a smirk.

"As you will, Seeker."

The sword did not feel quite as awkward as it did in my other hand, and I gave it an experimental twirl to test its balance again. The handle finally settled nicely into the palm of my hand. I looked up to find Cassandra still impatiently waiting for me.

"Ah, much better." I gave the blade another twirl, just for show. "Shall we?"

This time, I was the first to attack.

I have never been particularly talented with a blade. My abilities have always been strongest in matters of the arcane. Given enough time, I can learn and master any spell I come across, and no matter how long it has been since I last cast a spell, I will not fall out of practice. Such things are more natural than breathing to me and my ancient kind.

Swordsmanship, however, had always been a struggle to master. It was a skill that needed constant practice, otherwise I would forget it completely. After I had freed myself from Tevinter, it took me decades of practice before my skill with a sword was even decent without the aid of magic. After several centuries, I had become a master in my own right. Since then, however, I had long fallen far out of practice.

There was deafening clang of metal striking metal. Sparks flew from the impact. Our blades remained locked together, and Cassandra surged forward to push me back, throw me off balance. I planted my feet in the frozen ground and stood firm.

At this point, it was less about who was the most skilled swordswoman, and more about who possessed the most brute strength. I already knew who that was, and it was not me.

I shifted all of my weight to one leg. My knee shot up and connected with her gut, hard. Air rushed out of Cassandra in a loud huff, but she didn't waver in her stance. She threw her whole body against our deadlock with a roar, forcing me back a few steps before I righted myself.

My body strained to hold her back, and I felt my strength begin to dwindle as my muscles burned from the exertion. Once again, I had seconds before Cassandra overpowered me completely.

Quickly, I diverted our interlocked swords upwards, dropped to the ground in a roll, and swept her legs out from under her with a swift kick. Cassandra stumbled and righted herself, but not before I had gotten back to my feet. I pressed my sudden advantage with short, swift strikes that she awkwardly blocked.

For a minute, I forced her back several paces as she struggled to parry my blows. Then, she leapt out of my range, righted herself, then lunged to attack. The clashes of steel against steel rang out in the small practice field as we fought. Neither of us had a clear advantage over the other, and in those short moments, we were evenly matched.

Except we weren't. I knew that fact before I even picked up the practice sword. Were this a match of magical skill, Cassandra would have lost before she could cast her first spell. But this was a match of swordsmanship, and I was weak and far too out of practice.

I stepped too close when I lunged, leaving my whole side open and exposed. I did not see the curled fist that struck me in the head, but I felt the impact. Stars burst across my field of vision, and the world spun. I stumbled and fell, rather ungracefully, on my side. A deep groan rumbled in my throat as my temple throbbed from the blow.

The cool steel of a blade pressed against my throat. The match was over.

I squinted up at Cassandra, who was panting slightly and seemed rather pleased with herself. The world still spun a little bit, but it was not too bad. I'd had worse.

"How old are you?"

Cassandra's eyes narrowed at the question, but she still answered. "Thirty seven. Why?"

A cackle of laughter burst from my lips, and I fell back to the ground, still chuckling to myself. I had just been soundly beaten by a baby. A small part of me was embarrassed at how easily she had bested me, an ancient who had known more wars than she had years. But at that moment, all I could do was laugh at myself. I really had fallen far.

"What are you giggling at? What is so funny about my age?!" The words came out in an indignant hiss, and my laughter quickly died.

"I apologize, Seeker," I said, still struggling to hold back a smirk. "Your age is not remotely funny. I was simply… reminded of something rather silly. It would take too long to explain."

Cassandra gave a dissatisfied humph. "Somehow I doubt that."

I wiped a tear from my eye and got back to my feet. I swayed momentarily, my head throbbing, and I grimaced. Concussions were the worst.

"Trust me, if I wanted to insult you, I wouldn't be that coy." I rubbed my temple and cast a small ice charm to ease the pain and any swelling. "Do you normally deck the people you spar with? Or am I just special?"

Her mouth twitched slightly. "No. Normally they are strong enough to remain standing."

I lightly glared at her. "You're so mean."

Then, she did the unthinkable. She laughed. It was a small one, barely above a faint chuckle, but it was still a laugh. It lightened her face, and some of the tension in her posture seemed to melt away. I grinned at her, despite the pain.

"I see that you are standing well enough on your own," she said with a dry smile. "You will recover, I'm sure."

"Of course I will, but that's hardly the point." I crossed my arms and scowled in exaggerated indignation. "What if my brains fall out later on because you rattled them? What if I—oh dear, your face is purple with pink stripes. That's not normal. It's happening, Seeker! My brains are falling out!"

Cassandra scoffed. "You are being foolish again, elf."

Chuckling, I dropped the act and shrugged. I picked up the training sword, and I placed it back with the others.

"I think you'll find that to be my natural state, Seeker. It runs in the family."

"Truly? That sounds exhausting."

"Well, it's either that or terrified screaming at odd hours of the day. I could switch, if you prefer?"

The look she gave me was unimpressed. "Please don't."

"Fine," I said with a heavy sigh. "You don't know what you're missing."

She rolled her eyes. "I think I will manage."

Behind us in the fortress, a rooster began to crow. I glanced around and noticed for the first time that the stars had disappeared, and the moon had faded until it was barely visible. The eastern horizon was still dark, but the dawn was less than an hour away. How long had I been out here?

"Dawn is not far off. We should return soon."

I nodded absently, still massaging the sore spot on my temple.

"I imagine you will want to rest until your headache passes," said Cassandra lightly. "We are leaving for the Hinterlands tomorrow, and we wouldn't want your delicate head to still hurt."

"Alright, I think I've heard enough jokes about my fragility for one morning," I said with a pompous sniff, as though offended. I turned and strode away with my head held high. Over my shoulder, I called, "I shall retire and mend to my battered pride."

Cassandra made a noise behind me that sounded half between a huff and a choking laugh. She muttered something under her breath. The words "foolish elf" reached my ears, and I grinned. At least she was no longer in a foul and violent mood like before.

A few servants passed me as I made my way through Haven. Unlike yesterday when it seemed everybody and their dog recognized me, these people brushed past with barely a glance, scurrying off to start their day early. It was a relief that they did not know me. There are only so many awed encounters I can withstand before I just start throwing fire and lightning at everyone.

When I reached a quiet, empty alleyway, I paused and quickly drew a simple healing glyph on my temple with my fingertips. A cool, soothing sensation spread out from the glyph. I felt the throbbing lessen with each passing second, the faint dizziness grow unnoticeable. Then, it was gone. I blew out a sigh of relief as the pain dissolved, and I continued on my way.

Before I made it to the Chantry doors, I spied a light in a tent not far from the building. A low and familiar voice emanated from the tent as well. Curiosity got the better of me, and I crept around to the front to have a look. There, kneeling on the ground, in full leather and chainmail, was Leliana. She shifted slightly at my approach, but did not move or pause in her prayer.

"Blessed are the peacekeepers, the champions of the just. Blessed are the righteous, the lights in the shadow. In their blood, the Maker's will is written. Is that what you want from us? Blood? To die so that your will is done? Is death your only blessing?" Her voice grew dark and bitter as she veered away from the Chant, and she stopped suddenly and turned to face me. Her blue eyes were flinty and cold as she stared me down from the ground. "You speak for Andraste, no? What does the Maker's prophet have to say about all of this? What's his game? You have walked the earth since the days of ancient Arlathan, yes? Surely you would know his plan better than anyone!"

A feeling of dread settled into the pit of my stomach, and for a long moment, I said nothing. Of all the many curses that came with immortality, this was one of the worst. Every decade came with its own series of deaths and disasters, and every time, I would become surrounded by the lost and despairing. All of them have wanted answers.

"Why?" "Why did the humans slaughter my clan? Why didn't the creators protect us?" "Why does the Maker ignore my prayers?" "Why is there so much death?" "What is the point of it all?" "Why did the gods take my baby from me?" "Why didn't the Maker save us? We're good people?!" "Why, hahren?" "Why?"

The questions were as endless as the answers were elusive.

"What do you think his game is?" I asked softly. Quietly, I stepped out of the shadows and into the dim candlelight.

Her fair face twisted suddenly. "I used to believe that I was chosen to do his will. I used to believe that if you obey his commands and do good for others, all will be well. But now I see that I was mistaken. The sky, the temple ruins, the bones lying in the dust. No one could call this right! And yet, all that occurs is the Maker's will. So, I ask again, what is his game?"

I crossed my arms and quietly studied her face. She was not a young woman, but neither was she anywhere near elderly. Her features were pretty and almost youthful, but the faint lines of age and hardship around her eyes were unmistakable.

"You're, what, forty? Forty-five?" I probed.

"Forty-three," she answered shortly.

So young.

Slowly, I knelt beside her in the dirt. I kept a respectful distance, just in case she decided to lash out. That has happened a few times before with others who have looked to me for wisdom and did not receive what they wanted.

"At best, you have another sixty years waiting for you. This is assuming you do not fall ill, get yourself murdered, or die by accident. Sixty years." I watched her carefully as I spoke. Her eyes were hard, yet strangely expressionless. "I have lived nearly three thousand years, and an inexplicable number of years await me after this. I have seen great nations and cities rise to immeasurable heights, and then quickly crash to their knees. I have seen the deaths of hundreds of thousands, some of them virtuous, and others less so. I have seen war and great devastation in the name of freedom, and I have seen just as much in the name of a misplaced cushion.

"In all of that time, I have sensed no pattern, understood no plan. I am no closer to knowing why terrible shit happens now than I was at your age. All I can say is this: believe in what brings you the most comfort. Does it comfort you to believe that there is a Maker with a plan for our lives?"

Leliana's expression remained impassive and cold. "Once, perhaps. Now, I cannot be certain of the truth. How can a kind and loving god allow the senseless deaths of his faithful? How could any god allow this?"

I shook my head. "It doesn't matter if it's true or not."

Her gaze snapped up to mine, eyes narrowing in suspicion. She stared at me for a long moment with her eyebrows raised in bewilderment.

"I do not understand. Do you suggest that I bury my head in the sand and ignore truth?"

I smirked involuntarily at the mental image. "No, of course not. But then again, how would you know what the truth is? I have no way of disproving the Maker's existence anymore than you can prove it. Maybe he existed. Maybe he didn't. Maybe he's watching over us right now, and all of this is one big trial for us to overcome. In the end, it doesn't matter because we just don't know. So, I say that you believe in what gives you the most comfort in this world. You have only half a century left before you are gone forever. Please, don't waste what little time you have in despair. It's not worth it."

"Is that what you do, then? Choose your beliefs just because they're easy and comfortable?" Disappointment colored her voice. "I will not allow myself to be fooled into believing a fairytale simply because it sparkles the most. I must be open to possibility, or I will be blinded by certainty."

"No, I don't," I replied with a shake of my head. "Unlike you, I can afford to be uncertain. I'm likely not going anywhere anytime soon, but you will. I tell you this because you are mortal, and your life will be over before you realize it. I find that it's better to believe in the sparkly tale. You will never find peace in uncertainty."

Leliana frowned at me for a moment, and then she abruptly got to her feet and crossed over to a simple desk on the other side of the tent. I followed her example and got to my feet, but I stayed where I was. I watched Leliana from where I stood. Her movements were agitated, yet closely controlled. She was still upset. I knew from the beginning that I couldn't help her with her doubts, not truly. I could barely fend off my own, let alone hers.

"Your views are interesting and well-meaning, but I cannot say that I agree with them," Leliana spoke finally, her back turned to me. She sighed. "Once, I might have taken your words to heart. Why would I not? A three thousand year old elf from the ancient world here to offer me the wisdom of the ages?" She chuckled softly. The sound was abrupt and tinged with bitterness. "As it is, I thank you for your advice, but this is my burden. I regret that you even had to see me like this."

I am not wise. I smiled gently and as reassuringly as I could. The expression came easily. Why wouldn't it? I'd had more than enough practice to master it, the face of a woman who can do nothing but speak empty words of consolation. It was moments like this where I felt well and truly useless.

If I could live for millennia and still be unable to provide words of wisdom and reassurance, then what good was I? What good was the vast extent of my knowledge if I could not bring light to a soul grieving before my eyes? I could provide amusements and silly distractions to divert attention away from the bleeding wound, as I did with Cassandra only a few moments ago. But I could not heal the wound. I did not know how.

"Understood," I said finally. "And I am sorry that I could not help you more. I am not adept at providing words of comfort without lying my ass off."

"I do not want comfort, Herald. I want truth." Leliana paused, then turned and fixed me with an intense, calculating stare. "What does the ancient elf believe in? Surely you must know more than I."

Slowly, I took a deep breath before opening my mouth to speak. "I believe that we are alone. Once upon a time, there were powers beyond comprehending that ruled our lives. Now they are gone, or they no longer care. Either way, we are alone."

A faint tickle brushed the back of my neck. My body stiffened in response at the familiar sensation, and I grew very, very still. The feeling returned, except this time it had moved from my back to my front. It focused on my face, lightly probing and examining each feature as a pair of eyes would. I willed my expression to remain neutral. I was being watched.

My focus snapped back to Leliana, who was still eying me curiously. She was not the presence I had sensed. There was someone else in the tent.

I felt my heart begin to speed up in my chest as realization dawned on me. A Dreamer mage was watching me. My mind raced. It had been centuries since I had last been spied on in this way, and those who did were often amateurs. The skill took decades to properly master, and there were few Dreamers with the aptitude to learn it.

We Dreamers used to call it Slipping in the time of the Dales. To be able to slip from the world of dreams into the waking world whilst still asleep was a remarkable achievement, and I could not think of a single living mortal who was capable of it today. The secrets of the technique had been lost after the Exalted March.

Vaguely, my mind went to Solas, but I shook the thought off. Solas was too young, likely in his mid-thirties. All mortal Dreamers with the ability to Slip were in their sixties at the youngest.

So, who was watching us?

"You advise others to find comfort in their gods, but then deny yourself the same. Why?"

I shrugged, forcing the action to remain calm and casual. "Why not? Mortals often need to think that there's a divine being guiding them. It gives purpose to our lives."

Leliana's blue eyes sharpened momentarily before relaxing into neutrality. She smiled, and her whole face seemed to change before my eyes. She had caught my hint and was putting on her mask. She knew that we were being watched.

"Perhaps one day you will change your mind and come to the Maker," she said brightly. Nothing in her expression, voice, or body language gave any hints to the turmoil that was there moments ago. She was good. "All are welcome at the Maker's side."

I glanced away and cleared my throat, feigning discomfort. I had to leave. "Maybe. I apologize. I have taken up too much of your time. You no doubt have plenty to do without me bothering you."

"It is no trouble, Herald. Feel free to stop by any time you have something you wish to discuss." Her gaze was pointed, but her voice remained casual and friendly. She no doubt wanted an explanation soon.

I nodded and exited the tent. The presence followed me, shadowing my steps as I walked to the Chantry. Whoever it was, its interest was focused on me. Not Leliana. It entered the Chantry behind me, and I continued on. The hall was empty, save for myself and the presence.

Perfect.

Abruptly, I halted. The presence followed suit, and I felt its gaze flickering over me with interest.

"You know, most cultures consider it rude to eavesdrop on private conversations." I turned on my heel and faced the area where I felt the presence. Its gaze settled on my face again. More specifically, my eyes.

Physically, there was nothing there. The corner where I felt it was dim and occupied by only a small table with an unlit candle. Anyone who would stumble into the hall at that moment would think that I was talking to air.

"Who are you and what are you doing here?" I demanded, staring intently at the empty space where I felt the presence.

Nothing happened. The being did not move, nor did it make any effort to show itself. It simply stayed still in the corner and continued to watch me.

"Don't be coy, Somniari. I might not be able to see you, but I know you're there." I flexed my fingers and readied myself for an attack. Whoever was watching me, I did not trust them. "Show yourself."

For several seconds, nothing happened. Then, suddenly the energy that surrounded the presence flared slightly, and the candle on the table lit spontaneously. A stabbing sensation tore through my left palm. I hissed and grasped my hand where the pain emanated from. Bright green light shone out like a beacon in the darkened hall. Under the emerald light, a pair of eyes and a black shape began to form in the corner.

I summoned a ball of lightning to my right hand, just in case, and I watched and waited. The eyes were what formed first. They glowed like two shockingly blue stars, and they began to rise up until they were at least twenty feet up in the air, nearly touching the wooden rafters. Around the eyes, dark shadows writhed without shape or form of any kind for a moment. Then the blackness ceased to move and finally took shape.

The lightning I had summoned fizzled out in my hand as I stared slack jawed. Standing before me, hunching under the limited height of the rafters, was the absolutely massive form of a black wolf. Its gigantic head bent and lowered itself down to my level, and its eyes stared straight at and through me. My knees felt weak as those orbs bored holes in me. The Mark flared again at the sudden closeness.

"You."

My voice cracked and rose a couple of octaves, but I didn't care. I could hardly believe what I was seeing. He was here. Power rolled off him in familiar waves, far more subdued than I remembered it to be, but the sheer immensity of it was still breathtaking. My heart thumped painfully in my chest before taking off an impossibly fast pace. My breaths grew shallow and quicker, and I felt the world wobble slightly. He was here. Fen'harel was here, standing right before my eyes.

A torrent of thoughts and emotions flooded through my mind, nothing intelligible. All I could do was stare dumbly at the god that stood close enough to touch. To touch.

My arm acted without the consent of my mind and reached up towards the wolf's head. The Mark sputtered and flickered even brighter as it neared him. Fen'harel's glowing eyes widened as he saw what I was doing. He was there only a foot out of my reach, but I couldn't seem to move my legs to take the step.

A door creaked open and shut loudly, and the sounds of a Chantry hymn being sung floated over. We both froze, then Fen'harel recoiled from me. His shadowy form diminished in the blink of an eye, and a sudden, irrational panic gripped me. I rushed forward with a cry.

"No, wait! Don't go! Please!"

Too late. He was gone. I sucked in a breath and clapped a hand over my mouth. The tickle that announced his presence was gone as well. Standing there alone, I felt as though something vital had been ripped from my chest. A muffled squeak escaped my lips and the hand that covered them, and I realized belatedly that it was a sob.

"Lady Herald?" I spun around. It was one of the Chantry Sisters. She caught sight of me, and a look of worry passed over her face. "Are you alright, Lady Herald? I heard strange shouting a moment ago."

"I… yes." My voice croaked. "I'm fine. Everything's fine."

The older woman's brow furrowed slightly, and she reached into the folds of her robe and brought out a handkerchief. She handed it to me and patted my arm gently. I stared blankly at her and the piece of cloth that lay in my hand.

"Do not be afraid, child. You carry the Maker's blessing. He will watch over you." She smiled kindly at me, the wrinkles around her eyes deepening, and she gave my arm a squeeze.

What?

"I… um… thank you," I muttered. Confused and rattled, I broke away from the Sister and practically ran to my quarters.

I slammed the door shut, locked it, then fell back against its solid wooden planks, breathing heavily. My reflection caught my attention, and I realized then why the Sister had given me the handkerchief. Tears were streaming down my face, my eyes were red, my hair wild and tangled, and I was shaking.

My body slowly slid down the door until I hit the stone-cold floor. Absently, I dabbed at the tears that had fallen, and I felt my quaking subside a little. I sat there on the ground for several minutes, unmoving and unthinking. Gradually, the fog began to clear from my head, and a clear, solitary thought rang out in my head like a bell.

Why?


	6. Chapter 6

_Dearest Deshanna,_

_I hope that this letter finds you and the rest of our clan in good health, as well as safe from the chaos that has unfolded in recent events. I have never been one for beating about the bush, and I will not do so now. No doubt by now, you have received some word of the explosion at the Conclave, an explosion that ripped a giant hole in the Veil between the physical realm and the Beyond and killed all who were present. All except yours truly._

_I am certain that you have many questions, and for once, I do not think I am able to answer all of them. All that has occurred is so far out of the realm of what I am familiar with._

_Before you begin to worry, as always, please do not fear for my safety or wellbeing. The Inquisition has recruited me into its ranks and has given me protection in exchange for my help in sealing the tear in the sky. Unbelievable, I know. There is so much that I wish I could tell you, and I have so little time. All you need know at this point is that I am well, and I have not been kidnapped by the shemlen. As if they could hold me for long._

_How are you? How is the clan? How are the twins, Ellana and Mahanon? How is that little rascal, Felros? These last few weeks have kept me occupied constantly, but they have not stopped me from worrying incessantly about you all. I even considered praying. Yes. Praying. That is the extent of my concern for you idiots. I hope that you receive this soon and write back before I get down on my knees and do something I'll regret._

_Your friend,_

_Halia_

_P.S. If at all possible, I would appreciate it if you sent Felros to me with the returning messenger. I have found myself missing his presence dearly, as well as his particular skills in a fight. I sense that there will be many more of those to come._

I laid down the parchment on the table and prepared the envelope as the ink dried. There was a small crashing noise outside the tent, followed quickly by a string of profanities. I chuckled. One of the soldiers must have knocked over the requisitions table again. Quickly, I finished preparing the letter, and I sealed it with hot red wax and one of the Inquisition seals.

The unbearably bright sunlight caught me off guard for the third time that morning as I stepped outside my tent. I squinted and scowled, waiting for my eyes to adjust to the obnoxious light.

"Agent Lavellan?"

I turned and greeted the speaker with a smile. Although I could not see him too well, I knew his face and voice well enough.

"Agent Varlassan," I said with a slight bow of my head. "How are you?"

"Well enough, lethallan. Sister Nightingale informed me that you had a task for me," the young elf stated.

I had only met him a couple of other times, but I liked the boy. He was calm, professional, and to the point, and he had risen far through the Inquisition scout ranks for a Dalish elf.

"Indeed I do." I held out the letter for him to take. "You are familiar with the travelling patterns of Clan Lavellan, are you not?" He nodded briskly and took the letter. "Good. Your task is to deliver two letters to the Keeper of that clan and to return with her response. That is one. The other will be handed to you by one of Charter's people within the hour. Any questions?"

His mouth thinned momentarily in thought. "I will need passage across the Waking Sea."

"Done." I reached into a pocket and pulled out a pouch heavy with sovereigns. "This should be more than enough to cover both journeys to and fro. And do not forget the second letter. That one is official Inquisition business and highly sensitive. The one in your hand right now is personal, but still important. Understood?"

"Understood," he replied simply.

"Good. You are dismissed, lethallin. Dareth shiral."

"Dareth shiral."

And then he turned and disappeared into the sea of soldiers and scouts that swarmed the campsite. It had only been a day since we had met with Mother Giselle and established a presence at the Crossroads, and it seemed as though a whole battalion had shown up to hold the town since then. There was some comfort in being surrounded by soldiers. Yet, at the same time, there was no room for all of them on the hillside where we had set up a camp.

I sighed and stepped out of the way of yet another squad passing through the campsite. I was not in charge of this operation into the Hinterlands, and I was ever so grateful for that. The whole endeavor was a disorganized mess. A successful mess, but still a mess.

Briefly, I considered retreating into my tent to wait for Cassandra to round up Varric, Solas, and myself for our journey to Horsemaster Dennet's farms when I spied the Seeker already heading towards me in the crowd. She was decked out in full battle armor and gear, as I was. A furious scowl had settled on her face, and I realized where it must have come from when I spied Varric trailing behind her, looking incredibly smug.

I rolled my eyes. I did not want to know what their argument was about this time. Those two could bicker endlessly about absolutely nothing, and it was exhausting to listen to.

"Are you prepared to set out?" she asked, sounding every bit as tense and irritated as she looked.

"I am," I replied. "Where's Solas?"

"At the entrance to the camp. He is waiting for us there."

I nodded and reached into my tent and grabbed my pack. Swinging it onto my back, I joined Cassandra and Varric, who were both pointed avoiding each other's gaze.

_Bunch of children._

It was not long before we reached the outskirts where we found Solas waiting, arms crossed and brow pensive as he stared out over the valley below the camp. He must have heard our approach, because he turned to greet us with a nod and a slight bow just before we reached him. He and Cassandra exchanged a few words, and then we set off down the road. I noticed, not for the first time, how his eyes settled on me as we walked.

He was staring again. He had been actively staring ever since the morning when we met to leave Haven. I was no stranger to being stared at. To be fair, I did appear as an oddity of a sort to the modern peoples of Thedas. For an elf, I was too tall, my features too sharp, my eyes too weirdly colored, and my body too far from waifish and willowy. Eyes were naturally drawn towards me whether I wanted them to or not. The novelty of my strange appearance usually wore off within a few days among strangers, and all returned to normal again. Yet, it had been nearly three weeks, and Solas still continued to stare.

I caught him in the act multiple times since we had left Haven, hoping that maybe he would stop if he knew that I knew. He didn't. Solas would meet my eyes momentarily each time, then casually look away, not at all embarrassed at being spotted. A few times, I would start up an innocent conversation with him about something as minute as the weather to see if he would give any hint as to why he kept staring at me. Every time, he would politely respond, but he remained unreadable.

Logically, I suppose that I should have been unnerved by his attention, but I could not muster up any emotion or feeling other than mild curiosity. After the first week, I realized that he was not staring at my physical features; he was watching my actions, watching my movements, listening to my words, few as they were. Nothing he ever said or did gave any reason for why he watched me so closely, and my curiosity only grew.

Cassandra led our party from the front, and on most days, I remained at the front with her. Although today, I slowly drifted back and switched places with Varric, who seemed more than happy to walk with and annoy the Seeker at the front. Solas, however, always trailed behind everyone else, always out of view, and always with the perfect view of everything and everyone.

I fell back even further, falling into pace with Solas. He gave me a nod of acknowledgement and a small, but polite smile, and he turned away. Though I did not miss the way his gaze continued to flicker over me every once in awhile during our trek. I met his inquisitive eyes with a smirk. I had finally had enough.

"So, lethallin, tell me about yourself."

His whole demeanor shifted. On most days, Solas was soft-spoken and remarkably at ease as he surveyed the world around us, as though he had seen everything before. Nothing ever seemed to surprise or upset him. Rogue templars? He merely ignited the tip of his staff without a word or even a scowl. Rogue apostates? He did the same thing. Demons? No change. Bears? Alright, that's different. No one is held accountable for their reactions when three massive grizzly bears appear out of _fucking nowhere_.

However, for once, he seemed more on guard in that moment than he ever had in combat. His spine, which was always straight, stiffened as though a rod had been inserted in his back. The healthy flush that had built up on his face after the cold and the exertion of hiking seemed to drain a little, and his bright, inquisitive blue eyes grew cold and flinty. The change was small, almost imperceptible, but I had seen it nevertheless.

"Why?"

I eyed him carefully.

"Because, Solas," I began slowly, "we are on a mission to save the world together, and we are strangers. Our lives depend on each other, and I know next to nothing about you. Call me paranoid, but I find that to be at least a little unnerving. Surely you feel the same to a certain degree? You've been watching me very closely for the past month, so I'm fairly certain that I'm right."

He exhaled softly, a puff of steam flying past his mouth and into the chilled autumn air. His gaze met mine, and I noted quietly that his eyes appeared different up close in the more golden light of the Hinterlands. Brighter, bluer, and with a very faint ring of violet around his pupils that I had not noticed before. They were… pretty.

"You are right," Solas admitted. "I apologize if I have caused you discomfort because of my curiosity. It was not my intention." He frowned suddenly. "There's so much fear in the air. What would you know of me?"

"Well, for starters, what's your full name? Everyone except you seems to have a last name. And is Solas short for anything?"

Solas raised his eyebrows at me. "You wish to know if I have another name? Why?"

I shrugged. "I like to know people's' names. They paint a clearer picture to remember friends by. I'm working on getting Cassandra to tell me hers. She's very stubborn."

Up ahead, Cassandra turned and glared at me. "You can keep trying. It will get you nowhere," she growled.

"One day, Seeker! One day," I grinned at her.

"Unfortunately, I must disappoint you. I do not have a last name, nor is Solas a shortened version of anything. I am merely Solas."

"How mysterious," I replied teasingly. He did not respond. "Truly? No last name whatsoever?"

"That is correct."

Varric called over his shoulder, "Next, she's going to ask if you want hers. I can already hear the bells!"

"Oh, shut up, Tethras!" I called back with a laugh.

"Yes, please do shut up," said Cassandra sharply.

"Ah, ganged up on again," he moaned with a dramatic sigh.

I rolled my eyes at the two of them. I hoped that one day the two of them could work out their differences. At the moment, their interactions were benign, merely an annoyance. The consequence of putting two strong personalities with differing morals together. Hopefully, they would not cause an explosion if something went wrong between them.

"And yourself?" I turned back to Solas. Amusement danced in his bright eyes.

"Pardon?"

"Your name, Halia. I have noted that most Dalish I've met have a name with a meaning behind it," Solas replied, ducking under a tree branch that hung across the path. "Halia does not translate into any Elven words. Is it a nickname?"

"Oh, right. Yes, it is a nickname," I said sheepishly. "I had a stutter when I was little, and longer words and names were hard to say. Mine included. It's Mahalia, though you'll find that doesn't translate either."

"Mahalia?"

My gaze snapped up to watch him closely. I expected neutrality, maybe some mild curiosity at the most. I had not anticipated the note of alarm that colored his voice. His face had grown even paler than before. Shock flickered across his features and then disappeared. A cool mask then settled over his face with the sudden force of a gate slamming shut. His hand clenched around his staff tightly, knuckles turning white. Clearly the name meant something to him.

"Yes, that's my name," I began carefully. "Are you alright? You seem… upset."

Solas blinked at me, the mask settling even further, blocking every vestige of his outburst. He smiled softly, a slight twitch of the lips. Blue-violet eyes watched me uncertainly. What was wrong with him?

He hesitated and cleared his throat. "Forgive me. I was merely surprised that such a name was still in use. It is very ancient. The language from which it originates is long dead, and I had thought the name was forgotten."

I continued to eye him skeptically. Did he truly have knowledge that _I_ was unaware of? I had spent decades scouring the Fade for pieces of the old world. What could he have seen that I had not?

"What language are you referring to? I have heard nothing about other elven languages, and I have studied that culture extensively," I pressed.

Solas frowned again. "As have I. However, my studies were not limited to Elvhenan. There were hundreds of other elven languages and cultures before the great empire, as there are just as many human languages and cultures here today. All have been lost to history, but the memory of them still lives on in the remote areas of the world.

"The particular language I speak of no longer has a name, as do the people who spoke it. However, for a time before the empire, they were the most feared and respected group in all of ancient Thedas. Unfortunately, they did not survive the formation of Elvhenan. Many others suffered the same fate as them."

I listened to him closely, strangely fascinated. He had a soft, musical voice, and he spoke with a quiet authority that was difficult to ignore. I had no idea if he was telling the truth, if anything he said was true, but I wanted to believe him.

If Solas was speaking the truth, then that explained a great deal. My mother had been the one to name me when I was born. Time faded many of my memories of her, but I always clearly remembered that she spoke with a strong accent, one that did not fit with anything else I was familiar with. And she sang. She sang all the time with words that had no meaning to me, but were beautiful to listen to all the same. I asked her many times what the words had meant, but she never answered me, only smiled sadly and kept singing.

"Interesting," I said finally. "What does it mean then? My name?"

Solas paused to stare at me for a moment, eyes curious and examining. His fingers clenched and unclenched around his staff as he clearly pondered what to say. Whatever it meant, it must've been important. Vaguely, I hoped it didn't have anything to do with flowers or little fluffy animals.

At last, he spoke, "Mahalia was a revered name meant solely for one of the tribe's fiercest arcane warriors. Roughly translated, it means 'white wolf'. It was both an honor and a responsibility to have such a name." He paused again. "I am curious whether you will live up to it."

 _Who's to say that I haven't already?_ I swallowed back my retort, and I felt my expression sour. Solas did not know what I'd lived through, nor did I want him to. Yet somehow, those words still stung.

"Still, it is curious that your clan knew of the name's existence," he mused softly. "Most Dalish are unaware of their history and do not seek to learn more. Perhaps the naming was not intentional?"

 _This again_. There was an undeniable note of pretentiousness in his tone that made my fingers twitch and my lip start to curl over my teeth. We did not know everything, but I had invested a great deal of time and effort to make sure that my clan knew as much as I did. It was… irritating to be judged because of a stereotype.

Ultimately, Solas's opinion should have made little difference, but something defiant reared up inside me, and I knew that I couldn't let him get away with it entirely. So, I did something very regrettable. I lied. Sort of.

"The naming was very intentional actually," I said firmly. "The first Mahalia Lavellan was an Emerald Knight. After the fall of the Dales, she left and established a clan among a group of refugees. She is well-known among my clan, and there have been many Mahalias over the years." I fixed him with a bright smile. "We are very proud of that name, and I am grateful that you shared the meaning. My family will be pleased to know its origin."

Of course, I knew that if he ever investigated my clan's history through the memories in the fade, he would find that all of those Mahalias were the same person. It was a foolish move, but I couldn't help myself. I was annoyed.

"You are welcome, da'len." I bit my tongue to stop myself from snorting. Pride, indeed. "I am unfamiliar with this knight you speak of. I would be interested in knowing more about her."

 _No_. "Sure. What would-?"

"Get down!"

Solas grasped my arm and roughly hauled me to the ground. My knees crunched against the gravel road just as an arrow whistled right over my head. I whirled around and caught sight of six, no, seven templars rushing out from around a pair of giant boulders.

Cassandra had already leapt into the fray, sword drawn and shield ready. Varric leapt back from the advancing templars and reached for his crossbow. My skin prickled and the air beside me grew frigid as Solas began to summon his spells.

My fingers twitched again. A templar wielding a tower shield caught sight of the two of us and headed straight for us. Quickly, I selected my targets, a spell already in mind. My limbs began to shake as power flooded my body. I laid my hand against the cool, rocky earth and _pushed_. Streaks of purple lightning arched down my fingers, into the ground, and towards their marks.

The templars not already cut down by my companions flailed and screamed under my electric assault before falling to the ground, curled up and twitching as electricity still arched through and over them. The current was not lethal. It merely restrained... and burned like hell. Cassandra did not hesitate to step in and finish them off with a well-placed stab of her sword. Varric shouldered his crossbow and sauntered over to me.

I glanced over at Solas. "Thanks for knocking me out of the way," I said lightly.

"You are welcome," he replied. As always, he watched me closely. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever stop staring at me. "That is the third ancient elvhen spell that you have casted since our assault on the Breach. I find myself intrigued as to where you learned of them."

Oh, this was just too good to pass up. I sat up a little on the ground and held back an amused smirk.

"You might be surprised how much the Dalish remember, lethallin." I kept my expression carefully neutral. "My clan is known for its wealth of ancient knowledge and spells. It is a pity that you formed your opinion of all of us so quickly. We might've impressed you."

A small frown settled between his straight brows, and his lips pursed in thought.

"Perhaps," he said finally.

"Shit, Cackles. Remind me never to piss you or your clan off," Varric said with his usual gravelly chuckle when he reached me.

"Cackles?" I asked, then groaned as I stood up. My knees ached after being slammed against the hard ground. I gingerly flexed my legs. Maybe the pain would go away soon. With joint pains, I could only hope. "What's that about?"

"Ah, just a little hobby of mine," he shrugged. "I'd have dubbed you Goldie, but it didn't quite fit. Cackles, well…" Varric trailed off with a smirk.

"I do not cackle," I stated firmly, a little annoyed at the name. I have never liked my laugh, and I dislike it even more when others call attention to it.

"Uh, yes, yes you do," he countered. "You have a magnificently obnoxious cackle. It's absolutely hilarious."

"Solas, do I cackle?"

His mouth twitched. "I have no comment on the matter."

_Ugh._

I scowled at both of them before turning towards Cassandra, quickly switching the subject. "Hey, Seeker, what is your plan for these bodies?"

"Leave them," she ordered, frowning. "Until we clear out the rogue templars and rebel mages in the area, the King's Highway is little more than a battlefield. Their fellows will collect them."

I nodded. "Sounds fair. How far until we reach Dennet's?"

"Half a mile, at most. If all of you are uninjured, we shall move on," she replied, her expression tight as she sheathed her sword.

"Lead on," Varric made a sweeping gesture with his hand. He caught my eye and softly sang, " _Caackles_."

"Whatever it is, dwarf, keep it to yourself," snapped Cassandra.

Immediately, everyone fell utterly silent. Though she would never say it outright, we all knew that killing those templars here and at the crossroads had taken a small toll on her. At one time, she had considered them allies, maybe even friends. If she needed silence, we could give it to her for a little while.

It took forever for all of us to make it across the river. The middle of the bridge had splintered, and the remaining boards sagged in the remarkably shallow water. I took one look at the structure, scoffed, and stepped forward to wade into the stream. Solas followed me quietly, and the two of us made it across first with only the lower halves of our legs wet.

Varric and Cassandra remained on the bridge. I understood why. Cassandra wore chainmail and heavy plate, both terrible items to get wet, and Varric had a natural aversion to all things natural. Still, it was amusing to watch them struggle to hold onto the railing as they crossed over the not-at-all-dangerous river, snapping and growling at each other all the while. When they finally reached the other side, Cassandra had turned an angry red and growled about the horrid state of the bridge, and Varric had grown remarkably pale, likely for the same reasons.

Fifteen minutes later, we were finally ready to keep going. It was not long before we reached the hill that overlooked Horsemaster Dennet's farm. The property was large and sprawling with several pastures for their horses.

 _Horses_. I grimaced. I hated horses, and they hated me. As appealing as it was to have mounts to traverse the lengthy plains, I'd rather walk thirty miles than ride a horse for the same distance. And I always walked barefoot.

As Cassandra was our leader, she was the one to go inside the great, barn-like house to speak with Dennet while the rest of us waited outside. I wondered after she already went inside if Dennet would notice the barely dry bloodstains on her armor. There weren't many, but they were there.

I shifted uneasily against the wall I was leaning against. The Inquisition needed those horses. I could only hope that Dennet wasn't squeamish about blood. I had known people who broke deals for less.

Barely ten minutes had passed before Cassandra and a bald, dark-skinned man with a white beard strode out of the house. The man glanced over at us briefly, huffed, and made a sweeping motion for us to follow.

"Alright, let's get all of you some proper mounts. Come with me, Inquisition," he ordered brusquely. That must be Dennet.

My heart sunk down into my stomach and beat out an unhappy rhythm in its depths. This was going to be awkward.

The stables that Dennet led us to were remarkably clean and well-maintained. The row of stalls stretched on for at least a hundred feet, and most of them were occupied.

The first horse that a stablehand brought out was a large, bay Fereldan Forder with a broad swatch of white down the front of its face. Its wide dark eyes caught sight of me immediately and widened even further, ears swivelling towards me in alarm, but it did not bolt. Yet. I breathed a sigh of relief when Dennet passed the big horse to Cassandra. The beast settled down a bit when she took its leadrope, though its ears were still trained on me

The next horse was not a horse at all but a pale little pony. Like the Forder, it spotted me immediately, but unlike the Forder, this one gave a fearful, squealing neigh and tossed its head. Varric made a face at his new mount's strange nervousness, but he still took its lead.

Then, Dennet turned to me. His brow knit momentarily as he looked me over, then he nodded and muttered to himself.

"Vixen will be perfect for your size." He motioned for his stablehand to fetch the horse.

I held back a flinch. "Oh, that won't be necessary. I much prefer to walk."

"Bah, don't be ridiculous. You're not traipsing around Orlais and Fereldan on foot while your friends have mounts. Your feet'll fall off long before these horses tire."

"With respect, Serah," I said calmly, "I can walk for longer distances than a horse can. We Dalish are used to it."

Cassandra cut in, "Halia, you are the Herald. Lady Montilyet would have an attack of nerves if she knew that you didn't have a horse to ride, and she would hound _me_ for allowing it. Take the horse. If you don't know how to ride, I will teach you."

I sighed deeply. "That is not the issue, Seeker."

"Then what is?"

I didn't answer. The horse would answer for me soon.

The mare, Vixen, pranced out beside the stablehand with her head held up high. I'll admit that she was a pretty horse, lithe and athletic. Her chestnut coat shone a brilliant copper in the sunlight. Like the others, she noticed me immediately, and her nostrils flared wide. She made no other reaction until about fifteen feet before me, and the horse stopped dead, eyes wide and breathing hard.

"Well, bring her over here!" Dennet barked at the boy holding the lead. The stablehand pulled and tugged, but Vixen refused to budge.

"Sorry, ser. She's not moving," the boy said desperately. I was not at all surprised.

Dennet grunted disapprovingly at him. "Well, go up to her," he told me.

I sighed again. "Alright." _Here it comes_.

I took three steps forwards, and chaos erupted. Vixen made a noise of pure equine terror and reared up high, knocking the stablehand to the side with her legs. I immediately backed up. Dennet rushed forward to grab the lead, but Vixen had already set down again and darted back into the stable with Dennet still after her, swearing loudly as he ran. I shook my head resignedly. Things had not changed.

"Well that was dramatic," Varric commented dryly.

"Indeed," Solas joined in. "Does this occur often? Is that why you hesitated to take a mount?"

"Every damn time I go near a horse, and I have no clue why," I admitted, a little tired. "It's useful when you're fighting cavalry. Not so useful if you are the cavalry."

"That is most inconvenient," Cassandra added. "Why did you not mention this before? It would have saved us time, and saved the Horsemaster a headache."

I raised my eyebrows at her. "Because, Seeker, no one believes me when I tell them that all horses think I'm evil incarnate. It's something you have to see for yourself."

Dennet appeared then, dragging a shaking Vixen behind him. His eyes narrowed at me and he scowled.

"What in Andraste's holy name did you do to my horse?!" he snapped at me. "She's one of the calmest horses in my stables. This girl's battle tested!"

"Nothing serah, I-"

Solas interrupted. "It is no fault of hers, serah. Certain mages with strong connections to the Fade can cause unease or even fear in certain prey animals. Horses are not exempt from this instinct. I, myself, have found it difficult to acquire a horse willing to carry me. It would seem that the Herald has the same problem."

I outright stared at Solas in surprise. He was lying. I had known many mages over the years with stronger connections to the Fade than I, but none of them had this problem. Solas was lying, and the scary part was, if I didn't know better, I would have believed him. He spoke smoothly, evenly, and with authority, as though he was born to lie. I couldn't help but be a little impressed. He was _good_.

The old horsemaster furrowed his brow. "I haven't heard of anything like that affecting my horses before."

"Indeed," Solas nodded. "It is not a common issue. However, the matter remains. The Herald and I cannot accept mounts that we would be unable to use. Very few horses have the temperament to carry us without fear."

Very few? In my experience, no horses were capable of even being near me, and I have known many horses.

"Very few, eh?" Dennet mused. He straightened suddenly, a gleam in his eye. "I suppose I'll take that as a challenge. You two, come with me." He motioned Solas and me to follow him as he turned and guided Vixen back to her stall. He ordered the stablehand to take a break and put a cold compress on the ugly bruise that was forming on the boy's forehead, and he shut Vixen in her stall and headed down the line of the other stalls.

We followed at a distance from both Dennet and the horses, though that did not stop the horses we passed from snorting loudly, neighing, or tossing their heads wildly.

"Are they really afraid of you too, or did you make that up?" I asked Solas in a low voice, so as not to alert Dennet.

"You believe that I would lie for no reason?" he replied, eyebrow quirked.

"I don't know. I don't know you very well. All I know is that no one else I've ever known has had this problem, and I've known quite a lot of people."

"But clearly not everyone," Solas countered. "And yes, most horses are frightened of me. You failed to notice that Varric and the Seeker's mounts were looking at both of us. We stood a fair distance apart."

"Oy, one of you come over here and try this one!" Dennet called.

Solas inclined his head. "I shall prove it to you, then," he said to me.

He strode towards the stall, while I hung back and watched. I caught a glimpse of a dark grey muzzle peeking out over the half door, but as soon as Solas stepped into the animal's field of vision, it abruptly jerked back. There was a loud ruckus as the horse reared and kicked the walls of its stall. Solas quickly stepped back, out of its view, and he shot me a look that clearly said 'I told you so.'

I met his stare and nodded once sheepishly. He hadn't been lying about that part, at least.

"Bugger," muttered Dennet. "Seasoned warhorse and he acts like a foal around an empty sack. Unbelievable." He glanced over at us. "Alright. Let's keep going."

Dennet led us to meet several other horses that he claimed were calm and sensible, but every single one recoiled at the sight of us. A grim look settled over the old horsemaster's face and grew more pronounced after each horse we visited. Finally, he'd had enough and led us back to the paddock where Varric and Cassandra were waiting with their new mounts, all saddled and ready to go.

"Alright, there's two more horses I'm gonna try," he said. "I didn't expect to be offering these two, but I promised you all mounts. And well, perhaps it's time these two came out of retirement."

"You think they'll be able to stand us? After all those horses we tested?" I asked in disbelief.

"Herald, if these two reject you, I'll eat my scarf," he said with a grimace. "Now you wait here while I bring the first to you. If they frighten in the stall, they might damage the walls."

And then he was gone.

"Curious that he was not concerned about the other horses damaging their stalls," Solas wondered aloud beside me. "How large must they be?"

A sense of dread filled my stomach at the thought.

"If you're trying to make me anxious, I gotta tell you, it's working."

Solas chuckled softly. My lips twitched, despite myself. He really did have a nice laugh.

Dennet rounded the corner just then, leading beside him the tallest and most magnificent white horse I'd seen in quite some time. It stepped lightly, yet with confidence and assurance, and it surveyed everything around with a calm arrogance in its dark eyes. It glanced over us with a snort, as though what it had seen was unimpressive.

"Her name's Ghost," Dennet said proudly. He patted the mare on the shoulder, which reached over a foot above his head. "She's of Tevinter stock, and a few years ago, she belonged to a Chevalier. The man's family sold her and her brother to me after he died in a duel. She's been the queen of this place ever since." Neither of us moved. "Well, one of you come over and say hello."

I grimaced at the horse's immense size and stepped behind Solas. "Uh, you can have her," I said when he shot me a questioning look.

Solas rolled his eyes and stepped forward, carefully, so as to not frighten Ghost anymore than necessary. Ghost snorted once and shook her mane to ward off a fly, but otherwise did not react. He reached his hand out for her to sniff, which she did with the greatest dignity I'd ever seen in a horse. Finally, she pulled away, looking quite bored.

"I'll be damned," Dennet whistled. He patted her shoulder again. "That's my girl. Good girl." He held out the lead for Solas to take. "You take good care of her. She's one of my best."

"I will, Serah. Thank you."

He cleared his throat. "Yeah, well, I'll go get her brother."

I watched Solas reach up and gently scratch Ghost's withers, muttering a few phrases to her in Elven. Ghost turned her powerful neck to study him for a moment. Clearly satisfied with what she saw, she reached down and nipped playfully at his coat, which caused Solas to chuckle again.

He caught my eye and beckoned me over. I shook my head with a small grimace.

"I am perfectly content at the moment. Thanks," I said. Solas seemed slightly disappointed at my refusal, but he said nothing.

It was not long before Dennet reappeared. I caught sight of the horse he led, and my heart plummeted even further than before.

The beast entered the paddock with graceful, measured lopes. Its thick, muscular neck was curled downwards, long mane spilling far past the muzzle, like its sister, Ghost. Dennet led the monstrosity up to where I stood frozen, and the… _thing_ stared down at me with cool, imperious dark eyes that did not hold a single sliver of fear. I swallowed and stared back.

"His name's Demon's Flight," the old horsemaster said with a proud grin. "Though everyone just calls him Demon. If Ghost's the queen of this place, then he's the king. And don't worry. He's not at all as bad as the name suggests."

Demon lifted his gigantic, black head to sniff my forehead. Hot air that smelled of grass blew over my face in several great gusts, and I stayed absolutely still. I vividly remembered the many times I'd been told that horses could smell fear and would in turn be afraid, or turn aggressive and dangerous. I bit my lip and willed myself to remain motionless. I would not show fear. I would not show my fear.

Finally, the black horse of the void pulled away, shook its head as a fly buzzed around it, and turned away, bored. I let out a breath that I didn't know I'd been holding.

"See? I told you, didn't I? Absolutely fearless." He handed me the leadrope, which I took without thinking. "My daughter, Seanna, and I will help you two with their tack momentarily."

And then he was gone again. The leadrope felt heavier than lead in my hands, and it hit me just then that I now had a horse. A _horse_.

I glanced over at Demon, and my heart thumped nervously. He hardly seemed like a horse to me. More like a mountain of obsidian in the shape of a terrifying stallion. He was absolutely gigantic, and not just in height, but in musculature as well. How would I even mount that beast? Would he even let me?

This was the closest I'd ever gotten to a real, live horse that wasn't trying to kill me or kill itself in running away. It was weird.

"Maker," Varric whistled from across the paddock. "Now that's what I call a horse, Cackles. You'll get a real good view from up there, no doubt."

I grimaced.

"As long as Demon's Flight and Ghost are able to serve their purposes, the view is secondary," Cassandra admonished with a scowl. "We are not here to sightsee."

"Aw, come on, Seeker," he whined. "I'm just trying to lighten the mood. Look at her. Poor kid seems ready to throw up or pass out, maybe even both."

Cassandra called to me, a touch concerned. "Halia, are you alright?"

I snapped out of my daze and fixed both of them with a light glare, trying to ignore the silent, unmoving beast next to me. My limbs felt colder and far shakier than normal, and I knew that I must've looked quite pale. I took a deep, steadying breath and continued to force the faux calm that held me together for the moment.

"Certainly. Why wouldn't I?" My smile felt brittle to me, but it seemed to satisfy Varric and Cassandra for the moment. I felt eyes on my back, and I turned, already aware that it was Solas who was staring at me again.

Perhaps it was my imagination, but he seemed concerned. Worried, even. I decided then that I didn't like the way he kept looking at me, as though he could see everything I tried to hide. It was unsettling, and I just wished that he'd stop.

The next few minutes went by too fast for my liking. Dennet and his daughter, Seanna, tacked up Ghost and Demon, and Seanna proceeded to explain each step to me as though I had never seen a saddle, a girth strap, or even a bridle before. I was half tempted to tell her that I'd been caring for halla and harts for longer than Fereldan existed, and I didn't need her to explain how the equipment worked, as it was all exactly the same. But that would have been rude, and I didn't have the energy to do anything except listen and hold my pretense of calm. All the while, I felt Solas's eyes on me again.

A wooden step stool appeared in front of me. I stared at it dumbly. What was that for?

Oh.

There were more pairs of eyes on me now. I climbed the up on the stool a little unsteadily. The saddle still seemed very far up. My foot found its way into the stirrup, and before I could truly consider what I was doing, I swung the other leg up and over the saddle. Demon stayed still as my body settled on top of him. My nerves, however, refused to settle.

"Take a little turn about the farm. See how you all like your new mounts," Dennet commanded. I noticed then that my companions had mounted their new horses as well and were urging them forward.

 _It's just like a hart_ , I told myself. Just like a hart. I knew how to ride a hart. Demon was the same size. It shouldn't be all that different.

_Horses are the pride of humanity. They are not meant for rats like you._

I took a deep breath and tried to ignore the old voice that spoke up in my head. I could do this. My heels gave Demon the barest of squeezes, and I instantly regretted it. Demon shot forward towards the open gate at a full gallop. On instinct, my knees tightened on the horse's side and my body leaned forward. Someone called out behind me, but all sound seemed to fade away.

The gait was all wrong. Harts were smooth, graceful, and utterly gentle with their gaits. This was nothing like that. I bobbed and bounced and all but held on for dear life.

"Whoa! Slow boy! Slow!" I pulled back hard on the reins.

Demon bucked once in response, and I flew up and out of the saddle. I scrambled for a grip as I fell. Quickly, my fingers tangled in his thick black mane, and my knee managed to hook around the horn of the saddle. I hauled myself back into the saddle and immediately dropped my heels down and dug my knees in for support.

_What do you think you are, slave? The horse will always reject you and your commands. Such a noble beast will never bow to a rat. Your very existence offends him._

My sense of calm cracked and shattered. I had no idea how to stop this animal. Panic descended upon me, and I leant further forward, digging my fingers deeper into Demon's mane. If I couldn't stop him, I could hold on until he got tired and slowed down. If I knew how to do nothing else, I knew how to hold on.

Then, miraculously, the horse slowed. A voice rang out beside me, but I could not understand the words. It seemed an eternity, but finally, Demon came to a stop. I remained hunched over, my face buried in the horse's mane as my breaths came quicker and quicker.

A feeling of numbness settled over my body like a stifling blanket, but it did not stop or slow my quickening heart, nor did it allow my limbs to relax from their terrified grips. Demon had stopped, but I couldn't move.

" _Mahalia, can you hear my words?_ "

A hand closed gently over my fist, which was still locked in Demon's mane. In the back of my mind, the voice finally registered. Solas. It was Solas, and he was speaking Elven.

" _I do,_ " I replied, my voice barely above a whisper. " _I hear your words._ "

" _You are experiencing a panic attack, Mahalia._ " His voice and cadence were calm and oddly soothing, especially in Elven. It was as if he was born to speak the language. I suppose in a way he was.

" _Oh, is that all?_ "

" _You are safe now. I will not let Demon run away from you again,_ " Solas murmured softly as he gently rubbed the back of my hand. " _You can trust me. I have you; you're safe._ "

I turned my head a little from where it rested on Demon's neck. Solas sat astride Ghost with one hand he grasped Demon's reins, and with the other hand, he touched mine. His eyes met mine and they softened in sympathy.

" _I hate horses,_ " I wheezed out. " _I've always hated them. And they hate me. Why did I agree to this?_ "

My vision blurred, and Solas's face swam in and out of focus. The world spun slightly. I couldn't seem to take a full breath.

" _Horses are simple creatures, Mahalia,_ " he replied, still rubbing my hand. " _They are not capable of hatred as you say. Demon does not hate you anymore than he would another rider. He is merely headstrong and spirited. You only need to learn how to control him. If you wish, I can teach you._ "

I shook my head weakly. " _I can't. He'll never listen to me._ "

" _Of course you can. You need only know how to direct him._ " Solas leaned in slightly. " _I can show you how to make him stop, if you will allow me._ "

My breathing was slowly beginning to even out and deepen. There was something strangely calming in the rhythm and sound of Elven, and I could feel my nerves finally begin to settle because of it. I realized then how much I missed the language. For a moment, I forgot where I was and merely focused on the sound and allowed it to calm me further.

Finally, I pushed my body up to a tentative sitting position. My hands still trembled, and I felt exhausted. But I could move again. I could breathe fully again. I locked eyes with Solas.

" _Very well. How do I stop him?_ "

Solas backed up Ghost a little. He then grasped one rein and pulled, drawing the mare's head and neck completely around until her muzzle touched his foot. Ghost spun in a small circle for a minute before stopping altogether, her neck still held in that position.

" _No horse can run with their head this way. Nor can one buck or kick. All a horse can do is circle, or halt._ " He met my gaze again. " _Try it._ "

I haltingly gathered up the reins again and followed Solas's example, pulling Demon's head to my foot. Demon tried to jerk his head back, but I held him steady. I felt his back end try to lift up in a buck, but he stumbled and settled on spinning around in a fast circle. It seemed like forever before he stopped, but then Demon came to a reluctant halt, breathing heavily on my toes. I exhaled in relief and released his head.

"Ma serannas, Solas," I said, lips quirking upwards in a grateful smile.

" _It was nothing,_ " he smiled back. " _I am glad to have helped._ "

I frowned suddenly. " _Where are the others? And where are we?_ "

" _We are a little over a mile past the farm. Our companions tried to follow but could not match Demon's speed. Demon's Flight is aptly named,_ " he said with an amused tilt of his brows. He reached down to scratch the mare's withers. " _Ghost did not have trouble catching up. It appears that she is used to chasing after him._ "

I lightly clicked my tongue, and Demon jolted forward in a brisk walk. Automatically, my heart thudded painfully in my chest and began to beat rapidly. I tugged at the reins gently, and he stopped abruptly.

" _It would appear that he responds to a different set of commands than you are used to,_ " Solas mused as he watched the whole interaction.

"He thought I was telling him to run the first time, you mean," I realized, switching back to Common. "Oh."

My face heated in embarrassment. I had assumed that all horses were taught the same cues, and I had panicked prematurely when mine hadn't worked. I mentally kicked myself. Not only that, but I had let the old taunts from ages past get to me, something which I promised myself would never happen again.

I bit my lip and forced down the urge to scream. I was nearly three thousand years old, for fuck's sake! Why couldn't I drown the voices? All of their owners were two thousand years dead. They should have died with them.

I shook my head. "I think I know what I did wrong. Are you ready to return?"

Solas nodded once in response. We both clicked our tongues, and both Ghost and Demon set off together at a walk. We rode together in silence, my mind elsewhere. It had been decades since the last time a voice of one of my former masters came to torment me. I had thought them silenced completely when I lived in peace in the Dales. But when the Dales fell, they came back with a vengeance, and it took centuries to quiet them again.

I looked around me. I was on a horse. Granted, I had lost control of said horse, but I had regained that control and was still in the saddle. I was in command, something which a few of my old masters would taunt me for being unable to achieve. I was the inferior rattus who disgusted their noble mounts. I smiled slightly. I half wished that those bastards could see me now.

I smiled to myself. It was good to take pleasure in the little things. They were what kept me sane.

"Halia!" Cassandra and her mount appeared, and she urged her horse into a canter. She came to a stop before us, and her mount whinnied nervously as it stared in horror at both Solas and I. "Are you alright? Did you fall?"

I straightened up and plastered a grin on my face. "Who, me? I'm perfect. That was quite the ride! How did it look?"

"Dangerous," Cassandra deadpanned, her concern evaporating like mist. "Of course you would find amusement out of it. Why am I not surprised?"

"Because you know me too well," I teased. "Where's Varric?"

"Still at the stables. He claims that he has never ridden a horse before and could not follow," she grimaced. "We should return before he does something foolish like you."

"Ouch. Would it help if I said I'm sorry?" I asked, mock hurt.

Her lips twitched upwards, but she quickly masked it with a glare.

"Just keep moving. Horsemaster Dennet has a few tasks for us to complete before he will send our people the horses they need."

I sighed. "There's always something."

"Indeed."

We rode on in comfortable silence as I gradually familiarized myself with Demon's choppy, energetic gait. I still felt the remnants of my panic attack, but it was manageable for now. The day was almost over, and we would soon make camp.

The stables finally came into view. I took a deep breath, deciding to test my limits. My heels squeezed Demon's sides, and he shot forward like an arrow. I leaned forward and moved my body with Demon's gait. I heard Cassandra cry out behind me as we passed, but I didn't bother looking back. I had to prove to myself now that I could ride this horse, or I would lose my nerve later.

Wind whistled past my ears and blew through my messy hair. I rode out Demon's bumpy, rocking gait with relative ease this time, and as the trees and fences flew by me at a blur, I began to understand the human appeal for horses.

I lightly tugged on the reins once, and Demon snorted and tossed his head. Still, he slowed to a canter, then a trot, then stopped fully at the gates to the stable paddock. I leaned down to pat Demon's neck, and I let out a deep sigh of relief. I smiled to myself again, reveling at the sense of accomplishment that settled in my chest.

That was another voice that I could banish fully from my mind.

* * *

**A Change in Perspective**

The Seeker's meetings with the horsemaster and his family concluded within a matter of hours, and we were free to set up a camp beside a nearby stream. It was not long before the process was complete, and Varric sat down to start a fire and prepare a meal. The sun began to dip below the horizon, casting long, dark shadows across the ground.

I settled down against the fallen trunk of a dead tree that was close, yet not too close to the fire. Before Inquisition agents arrived with supplies to establish a full camp, there would be no tents. This spot would have to do for now.

The Seeker sat before the fire, cleaning her bloodied armor in a focused silence. If Varric was uncomfortable with her presence, he gave no sign of it. He even began to hum. From what I recalled from days past in the tavern, it was a drinking song of some sort. That left the Herald.

In the past few weeks, I had discovered much about my companions. The Seeker Cassandra was a dedicated and powerful warrior, a woman of steadfast faith with a strong moral compass. She was honorable and focused, perhaps even to a fault. Yet, despite all that, there was kindness to her, a softness that betrayed the presence of a gentle heart.

Varric Tethras was a rogue in every sense of the word. Quick-witted and strangely clever, the dwarf seemed capable of divining a person's essential characteristics and motives through only a short conversation. He was not unlike Sister Nightingale in that respect. He wore his creative wit and easy charm as an Orlesian would wear a mask. The dwarf had secrets, a past that he kept carefully hidden, yet not so hidden that it was impossible to realize that it was there. I had no desire or need to pry into his personal affairs, but it was useful to know that there was something there.

The Herald… was not so easy to define. She was a mystery, an enigma. She had been since the first moment she was set down for me to examine. If I had thought her difficult to understand while she was asleep, she was even more difficult when awake.

On the surface, she was a beautiful elf with a quick smile and laugh, a playful sense of humor, an unshakeable confidence, and a sharp mind. For the first few days, I had merely accepted that image as the truth and had moved on to consider more important matters, namely the Breach. It was during one of my journeys in the fade that she caught my attention again.

It was mere accident that I came across her that night as she spoke with the spymaster. I found myself growing curious as to what she could be discussing with her at such an hour, and so I followed her. I had not anticipated that she would detect my presence, nor that she would challenge me to appear to her.

And so I revealed the form I often used to traverse the fade with. That of a giant black wolf. I had not anticipated her reaction. I had expected fear, especially from a Dalish elf. Before her stood the greatest monster of her people's legends. Yet, she had not been afraid, merely stunned, and then she had done the unthinkable. The Herald had reached out for me, without fear, without horror, as though she were greeting an old, lost friend.

The moment had been shortly broken, and I had fled. But I had not forgotten what that brief moment entailed or what it could possibly mean. For one brief instant, I had seen a glimpse into the Herald's spirit, and I was desperate to see more, to spy what else was hiding under that carefully constructed veneer. Soon, her decisions would no doubt shape the world. She was far too important not to investigate into further.

And so I watched her, watched the way she moved, the way she spoke, each word she spoke, every decision she made, anything that would help me solve the mystery of who she was. Despite my constant surveillance, I uncovered very little. Whatever she was hiding, she covered it well.

And then she told me her name. _Mahalia_. It truly was an ancient name, one that stretched back for tens of thousands of years of Elvhen history. It had all but disappeared when the language and the people who spoke it disappeared, and all record of it vanished completely with the fall of Elvhenan. How such a title could reappear millennia later in a world such as this baffled me.

The tree I leaned against trembled slightly as I new weight joined me on the ground, and my thoughts scattered. I met Mahalia's gaze with a small, welcoming smile, which she returned. Her dark violet eyes seemed to glitter in the failing light beside the campfire.

" _I wish to say thank you again for your help today._ " She spoke in Elven, just as she had done hours before. Unlike the other Dalish elves I'd met, she did not have a choppy accent when she spoke the language. The words rolled smoothly off her tongue, and never once had she paused to think about her next word. She merely spoke. " _I doubt that I could have recovered so quickly if you hadn't been there. So, thank you, Pride._ "

" _You are welcome,_ " I replied, continuing in Elven as before. I wondered how far her ability with the language extended. " _However there is no need, Mahalia. You are the Herald, the only one with the ability to seal the Breach. It would be remiss of me not to help you._ "

" _Aw, you certainly know how to make me feel special,_ " she chuckled. " _And here I was beginning to think you liked me._ "

" _I have no reason to dislike you, Mahalia,_ " I said, smiling slightly at her attempt at humor. " _You push forward when most would crack under pressure. You are kind and listen to those around you. Why should I not like you?_ "

Her skin turned pink under the black, swirling lines of her vallaslin, and she smiled, her eyes crinkling at the corners slightly. A small shadow fell across the faint indentations of a few old and faded scars over her left eyebrow and cheekbone and another that grazed her sculpted jawline. She always appeared fierce, with black lining and shadowing her eyes, black lines of vallaslin, and strong, proud features that reminded me of carved stone. Yet now without the black smears of makeup, with the firelight caught in her thick golden hair, and her dark eyes twinkling with a smile, she appeared vulnerable and even more lovely than before.

"Sweet talker."

She leaned forward suddenly, shifting into my personal space. Soft, plump lips touched my cheek in a brief, chaste kiss, and I felt my face begin to burn. She pulled away less than a second later, smirking a little.

"You're not too terrible sometimes either, Solas. Thanks again."

She got up suddenly and began to walk over to the fire where our companions sat. I watched her go mutely, face still hot and no doubt red. She laughed, no, cackled, at something Varric said, and I felt something akin to fondness spark inside me.

I frowned at the feeling and tried to push it back, but it would not go away. I sighed. This was most… unexpected.


	7. Chapter 7

 It was a huge relief to see the rough, wooden walls of Haven come into view again. Even the giant sunburst symbol at the top of the Chantry seemed a welcome sight. This fact alone made my already-pitiful mood drop significantly.

 I was exhausted. Completely and utterly bone tired. Every day out in the Hinterlands seemed to bring a thousand new tasks that kept all of us on our toes from before dawn until after dark. Refugees poured into the Crossroads on a daily basis, all of them needing food, clean water, blankets, herbs, and healing magic, and we never seemed to have enough of anything to give them. And then there were the apostates and the rogue templars who harassed us at every turn, just because they could. It was absolutely maddening.

 Finally, after over a month of infuriatingly slow, backbreaking work, the Crossroads were stable again, and we began the trek back to Haven. This time with _horses_.

 Demon’s Flight seemed to relish my exhaustion. If I didn’t know any better, I’d have thought that he had a vendetta against me. He bit me every chance he got, nearly kicked my head in twice, pushed me around with his massive bulk, and was just an overall pain in my ass. His only redeeming quality was that he and the other horses in our party were virtually tireless, and that trait shortened our trip back by a whole week and a half. Thank the fates for small miracles.

 Varric sighed deeply somewhere behind me. “It’s probably way too early to feel this way about a frozen shithole like this, but I don’t care. I’ll say it anyway.” I glanced back to see him throw his head back with a grin. “Home sweet home!”

 I smiled ruefully and replied, “As much as it pains me, I’ll second that sentiment.”

 “It is good to see Haven again,” said Cassandra neutrally. “We’ll have today and tomorrow to rest before we set out for Val Royeaux. I suggest we make the most of it and rest while we can.”

 “Surely we can keep the grand clerics waiting for a few days longer, right?” Varric protested, his tone low and a little whiny. “What’s the worst that could happen?”

 “Knowing the Chantry?” I interjected. “They’d probably get insulted and declare an exalted march for the hell of it.”

 “That’s… actually very likely. Well, shit. Nevermind then.”

 “Don’t be ridiculous. They would not proclaim a march over such a thing.” She did not sound particularly convinced of her own statement. “It is merely practical that we get this over with so that we see where we stand with the Chantry. Waiting is pointless.”

 At that moment, a young man, likely one of Cullen’s people, appeared sprinting towards us and came to a stop right in front of me and Demon.

 “My Lady Herald!” the man wheezed, breathing heavily from exertion. “You’ve returned! Commander Cullen sent me to greet you when you arrived. He requests that you and Seeker Pentaghast come to the war room immediately for debriefing.”

 My eyes momentarily flickered between the recruit and Cassandra. Why was he addressing me instead of her? I had not been the one in charge of the expedition, after all. The former soldier in me bristled at the disregard to the chain of command. Was there even a chain at all?

  _If you had been in command, the Hinterland wouldn’t have been such a disaster…_

  _Shut up._

 I squashed that nasty little voice and turned my attention back to the still-panting recruit. He was waiting for a reply. I sighed.

 “We will be there momentarily. Is there anything else?”

 “No serah. That’s all.”

 I nodded. “Very well. Dismissed, recruit.”

 He gave a salute, turned, and hurried back the way he came, this time slower. I watched his labored progress with a disappointed frown. Did Cullen’s men not do laps as part of their training, or was this one boy merely out of shape?

 I shook my head. I needed to watch myself. All these small fumbles, mistakes, and inefficiencies were driving me crazy. There were so many times in the Hinterlands where I’d been itching to take charge, just so I could straighten out the mess we’d gotten ourselves into. But I stopped myself every time. I could no longer hide in the shadows as I used to with the Dalish, not as the Herald of Andraste, but that did not mean I should be in command. I wanted no part of that life anymore.

 Yet, the old urge still reared its annoying little head, and it tugged at the corners of my mind. I could only hope that things got better before I did something drastic.

 We left our horses at the stable and continued on into the compound. I had to bite my cheek to stop myself from smiling when I handed Demon over to the stablemaster. The poor man looked ready to faint when he saw Demon’s ridiculous size. I received another nip to my shoulder just as I turned to leave, and I cussed at him in Tevene. I don’t think I had never seen an animal look so utterly pleased with itself.

 I massaged the bruised area with my other hand as I followed Cassandra towards the Chantry. My whole body thrummed with various aches and pains from the last month of work. These aches would no doubt make me grow stronger and return me to a fitter shape, but damnit if they weren’t distracting. I would need to find some elfroot to make a salve. Hopefully then I’d be able to sleep properly again.

 “What’s the meaning of this?” Cassandra’s voice brought my attention back to the present. I didn’t have to look far to see what she was referring to.

 A large crowd had assembled before the doors of the Chantry. I squinted and sped up my pace to get a better view. They appeared evenly split in half, with templars on one side and mages on the other. My stomach sank. This looked like a recipe for disaster.

 As I moved closer, I finally heard what they were saying. A particularly furious-looking templar had stepped into the mage side of the crowd, his hand resting on the pommel of his sword and a snarl on his face.

 “Your kind killed the Most Holy!”

 The mage closest to him scoffed and gripped his staff tighter. He straightened his posture and sneered down at the templar.

 “Lies. Your kind let her die!”

 The templar made to draw his sword. “Shut your mouth mage!”

 Suddenly, the doors to the Chantry opened and out burst Commander Cullen with the ferocity of a stormcloud. He broke in between the two, pushing them both apart.

 “Enough!” he roared.

 “Knight-Captain!”

 I watched as his expression twisted suddenly at the title. He rounded on the templar, and the man took a fearful step backwards. I did not blame him. The commander was surprisingly menacing for a man with a fluffy lion’s mane on his shoulders.

 “That is _not_ my title. We are not templars any longer,” Cullen growled. “We are _all_ part of the Inquisition.”

  _Admirable._ I wondered if there was any truth to that sentiment. It’s easy to preach unity and harmony, but it’s a lot harder to practice. Only time would tell.

 A new voice joined the fray. “And what does that mean exactly?”

 Ugh. Not him again.

 “Back already Chancellor? Haven’t you done enough?” Cullen looked even less pleased to see him than I was.

 “I’m curious, Commander, how your Inquisition and its “Herald” will restore order as you’ve promised.”

 There was noticeable hint of smugness to his voice, and it made me bristle. What was that man up to?

 “Of course you are,” Cullen said with a scowl. He turn back to the crowd. “Back to your duties, all of you!”

 At his word, the crowd dispersed. Cullen caught sight of us, and the relief on his face was palpable. He beckoned us over with a gesture.

 “Welcome back, both of you,” he smiled softly. “I trust that all went well?”

 “Yes… welcome back,” sniffed the Chancellor disdainfully.

 “What was all that about?” asked Cassandra, a deep furrow between her brow.

 Cullen sighed. “Mages and templars were already at war. Now they’re blaming each other for the Divine’s death.”

 “Which is why we require a _proper_ authority to guide them back to order!” Roderick cut in.

 “Who, you?” Cullen stared at the man in disbelief. “Random clerics who weren’t important enough to be invited to the Conclave?”

 My lips twitched upwards.

 Roderick scoffed. “The rebel Inquisition and its so-called “Herald of Andraste”? I think not.”

 “I don’t recall seeing any Chantry officials feeding the hungry or building shelters for the cold and desperate at the Crossroads,” I began coldly. “Or tending to the countless wounded, or defending the helpless from templars, apostates, wolves, bears, and the like. Oh, wait…”

 I scratched at my chin and pretended to be in deep thought for a long moment

 “My mistake. There was _one_ Revered Mother. And she wasn’t even representing the Chantry. If you want your precious Chantry to ‘guide the people back to order’, you’ll have to do better than sitting on your arses, and actually do _something_.”

 Chancellor Roderick turned a nasty shade of purple, and his mouth opened and shut like a fish. Once again, it seemed as though I had touched a nerve. There was something deeply amusing about making this insufferable little man flustered beyond words.

 “The Chantry is in mourning!” he protested after he’d gathered himself. “All of Thedas is in shock because of what happened. First, we must elect a new Divine, and then the rest will follow.”

 I smirked. “And how long does it take to elect a new Divine, at best? Oh right, one year. A lot can happen in that time. So, while you and your fellow peacocks are busy posturing and strutting about over who should sit in the fancy chair, we’ll be out here fixing this mess.” I reached over and patted his arm lightly. “Enjoy your stay, Chancellor.

 “I’ll be in the war room if you need me, Commander,” I told Cullen briskly before I stepped past him and into the Chantry hall.

 It probably wasn’t the wisest move to insult a cleric, no matter how low on the pecking order. The Inquisition couldn’t afford more enemies, and neither could I. It was deeply satisfying to tell him off, but I could only hope that this wouldn’t come back to bite me somehow. This would not be the first time something like that happened.

 The smell of burning incense and scented candle wax assaulted my nostrils the moment I stepped across the threshold, and I sneezed violently, but I kept moving forward. The air in the war room was always a little less pungent than the hallway. I pushed the door open at the end and stepped through.

 Leliana and Lady Montilyet were already there. The two of them looked up from a small stack of papers on the table. Lady Montilyet smiled broadly, brown eyes sparkling.

 “You’ve returned! Thank goodness!” She faltered when she took a closer look at me. “Oh dear. Are you unwell?”

 “Nothing a meal and a proper night’s sleep can’t fix. No worries,” I said lightly. I spied a kettle on the table with a few mugs beside it. “Is that tea?”

 “Oh, yes! Would you like some?” Lady Montilyet had practically materialized across the room in order to reach the kettle. Her eyes flickered back at me continuously, a faint line of worry between her sculpted brows.

 “Uh, yes please,” I hesitated. Did I truly look so terrible? “That sounds wonderful.”

 “Be careful, Halia,” Leliana tutted. She was smirking. “Admit to weakness once, and she’ll never leave you alone.”

 A mug of hot, steaming tea appeared in front of me, along with a plate overfilled with scones. I blinked dumbly at Lady Montilyet, who was watching me expectantly. My hands moved without my the permission of my brain to accept the offered food. How had she moved so fast?

 “My thanks, Lady Montilyet.”

 I lifted the mug to my lips and took a sip. The warmth from the bitter tea radiated down my throat and into my abdomen, and I gulped the rest of the liquid down, chasing that warm feeling. I sighed and set the mug down. Ah, that was so much better.

 “You prefer your tea without sugar, then?” Leliana observed with an amused smile from the other end of the table.

 I shrugged and reached for the kettle. “It’s an acquired taste. Sugar is a commodity we Dalish don’t have access to.”

 “Really? I thought that most of the merchants in the Free Marches traded often with your people. Is that no longer the case?” Lady Montilyet  frowned, confused at my statement.

 I took another gulp of tea and shook my head. “The cumulative wealth of Clan Lavellan is less than half a sovereign. We barter goods when we have to purchase anything, and most commodity merchants have little love for our crafts. So we do without. It’s no big deal.”

 “I had no idea your people had so little.” Lady Montilyet’s eyes were wide and fascinated as I finished, but there was sadness too and some pity. “In all of Thedas, even the lower classes have enough to buy food.”

 “Tis the price of freedom, as we say.” I finished my second mug of tea. “Where’s the Commander?”

 “Cullen is probably still dealing with Chancellor Roderick,” Leliana replied with a yawn that inspired me to yawn as well. I clenched my jaw. I had to stay alert. “The nasty little man can complain for hours when his feathers are ruffled, and it’s hard not to do so.”

 “I think I’ve picked up on that,” I grimaced.

 The door opened swiftly and hit the wall with a bang, and in stomped Cassandra, followed by an exasperated Cullen. I noted the array of purples and reds that played across Cassandra’s stony face, and I quietly handed her a scone. She glared at me for a moment before taking the offered pastry.

 “Whatever the Chancellor said, ignore it Cassandra,” Leliana scolded as she watched the silently fuming Seeker. “He is not worth the effort.”

 The dark-haired warrior bristled, but remained silent. Whatever the Chancellor had said to her, it must have been personal. Nearly every other time she was upset or angry, there was much screaming and the sounds of bones breaking. Now she was quiet and contained, and it was making me worry.

 Cullen cleared his throat. “Since we have now gathered here, it would be wise to start. What is the report from the Hinterlands?”

 “I have received word from my agents of several possible hideouts for rebel mages and rogue templars,” Leliana piped up. “They could not get close enough to verify without being spotted. However, it would appear that both groups have been losing significant numbers, as their presence has decreased. It would be wise to investigate these locations and finish off them off, if possible.”

 Lady Montilyet stepped forward and made a note on the clipboard she carried with her. She frowned slightly.

 “As much as it saddens me to say, I must agree with you,” she sighed deeply. “These groups must be removed if we are to re-establish commerce of any kind. I have received word from my contacts, and no merchants of any kind have agreed to make the journey. It is far too treacherous.” Her pretty face turned mournful. “I only wish that we could have resolved this another way.”

 Cullen scoffed. “The time for diplomacy with these groups has well passed! Both groups have lost all sense of reason, and they’ve reduced themselves to little more than bandits. They must be dealt with accordingly.”

 “Agreed,” said Leliana, before turning to both Cassandra and I. “Is there anything else you wish to add?”

 Cassandra did not speak up immediately. I glanced over at her. She was a little paler than usual, stiffer than usual -- which was saying something -- and the muscles on her jaw stood out. I could practically feel her teeth grinding together, and I winced. Whatever was wrong, she was not present enough to speak. It was up to me.

 “I cannot say that your agents’ reports were entirely accurate, Spymaster,” I began slowly. I fiddled with the scone in my hand, absently breaking off pieces. This was bringing back memories. “Since reclaiming the Crossroads, our people have been hounded and harassed nearly every day, all day and through the night. We have managed to hold them off, however it will not be long before they regroup and attack again in a greater swell. If we are to maintain a presence in the Hinterlands, the Crossroads must have more soldiers to defend it and more resources to aid the people there.

 “I advise that more healers be sent, as the whole region is crawling with sick and injured refugees. Many of them are starving as well. Lady Montilyet?” She blinked in surprise when I addressed her. “If your merchant contacts are promised soldiers to guard them, will they come to the Crossroads? The people there require supplies.”

 “They could be convinced.” Lady Montilyet did not sound particularly confident. But then suddenly, her dark eyes lit up, and her expression grew determined. “I think I may know of a way to coax them out. Leave it to me.”

 Commander Cullen scowled and spoke up, “The Crossroads shall have more soldiers. You have my word. I was under the impression that the area was well guarded. That error will not be made again.”

 I nodded, relieved. “Excellent. As soon as the Crossroads are secured, our squad will clear out those bases.” I turned to Cullen. “Speaking of, Horsemaster Dennet has requested that watchtowers be built around his community, in order to warn against attackers. He will not work for us until they are completed.”

 “Workers shall be sent out first thing tomorrow.” Commander Cullen bent to write something on a loose piece of paper. “Is there anything else we need to discuss? We all have much to do, and our recruits can’t train themselves, unfortunately.”

 “Yes, we should return to work if there is nothing else,” Lady Montilyet announced as she delicately dotted the paper with her quill. “No doubt you both have had a long journey and wish to rest. I will have a meal sent to your rooms shortly.”

 At the reminder, my exhaustion hit me again like a blow to the gut. I almost staggered as my head became fuzzy, and my eyelids drooped involuntarily. I forced myself to focus just in time to notice that everyone except Leliana was in the process of leaving. Gods, I needed sleep.

 She eyed me with curiously from across the table. I gave a parting wave and turned to go. I didn’t know why she was looking at me like that, and at that moment I didn’t really care. I needed to bury myself somewhere quiet for a few hours. Preferably a bed, but I’d take a pile of snowy rocks at that point.

 “Any news about our mysterious visitor?”

 The question stopped me dead in my tracks, and I willed my eyes to open just a little bit further so I didn’t look half dead. I turned.

 “Nothing, I’m afraid. Whoever he is,” I cleared my throat, “he has avoided me this time, and for good reason. I can detect him when he’s near.”

 She frowned. “Is there nothing you can do to ensure our base is protected from this person? A spell or ward of some kind? If this mage can see everything that occurs here, this could pose a threat to the Inquisition.”

 A ward that could stop the Dread Wolf? I barely held in a snort. Anything I put up would be useless against someone like him. If he was anything like how I remembered, my wards would be as effective as tissue paper. That left only one option.

 “Leave it to me. If our intruder is here tonight, I’ll find him.” This was going to be a long night.

 Leliana pursed her lips and studied me closely. “You are certain this will succeed?”

 I shrugged. “No, but it is the only way I know of.”

 “That is hardly reassuring,” she said with a glare.

 “Few things in the Fade ever are,” I replied, completely serious for once. “I’ll see you in the morning, Spymaster.” I snatched up my plate of scones, gave Leliana a small bow, then retreated to my room down the hall.

 There was a tub of steaming water already waiting for me by the fireplace. I paused for a moment to marvel at the sight before me. How long had it been since I had a room of my own with solid walls, a sturdy roof, a proper bed, or even a door for privacy? Too long. Far too long.

 I shook my head to clear my thoughts. It was hard not to pause whenever I remembered how primitive my life has been for so long, and how different things were… before.

 “Bathe, eat, sleep,” I reminded myself out loud. I had a job to do tonight. A tough job. Possibly the toughest I’d had in many years.

 A slightly hysterical giggle bubble up in my throat and spilled out. My body shook with the force of it. This was mad, and I was mad for considering it.

 Still, I set to work undressing. If I was going to confront the Dread Wolf in the Fade, I was at least going to have a bath first.

* * *

 

 It was quieter than normal tonight, I noted. The few, tentative spirits who had braved the discomfort of the Breach’s magic had yet to show themselves to me tonight, and I felt myself grow curious as the hours passed. There was still much to study without their presence and their added perspectives, but their strange absence was unusual.

 Intrigued, I stretched outside of the wall I had erected around my dreaming mind. Nothing. There was nothing. I allowed the walls to fall completely as I searched Haven. The mages were still there; I could feel them wandering mindlessly through the Fade as they slept. But no spirits, barely even a single wisp.

 Where had they gone?

 It was then that I saw the beacon. It rose like a massive tower of light that stretched higher than the Chantry roof and shone with an intensity that matched the sun. Waves upon waves of energy rolled off of it like thick, billowing clouds. I could feel them pass through me as I stood there, watching. This had not been there before.

 My own caution held me back from immediately investigating. Whoever had built this construct was powerful, possibly more so than I at the moment. A beacon such as this would take a spectacular amount of willpower to maintain. And yet, this only spurred my curiosity on.

 I had to know. I could not fathom returning to my sanctuary without attempting to find out. I approached the beacon.

 Surrounding it was a thin but opaque barrier that gave and opened as I pressed against it. The moment I stepped through, I was surrounded by dozens of babbling voices. It was bright, too bright to see anything properly. Countless shapes blurred and writhed in an endless cacophony of sound and light.

 One voice rose above all the others, silencing many as it cut through the chaos.

 “Why do you resist? You know you cannot win. Your fight will never end, and you know it! Only I can grant you the peace you desire. Without me, all hope is futile.”

 The surrounding voices rose again in a wave of unintelligible protests. Spirits. These were the spirits, I realized. They were here, all of them.

 “Do you have any idea how many times I’ve heard that _exact same pitch_?” A new voice cut through the din. “Honestly, have you no sense of originality?” There was a vague, exasperated sound. “Of course you don’t. Why do I even ask? Ugh. Either sit in the back somewhere with the others or get out. You’re boring me to tears.”

 I knew that voice.

 “You cannot dismiss me! I will always be a part of you! I am the voice in your mind, I am the beat of your heart! You cannot--!”

 “Yes, I absolutely can. _Now sit in the back or Get. Out._ ”

 The despair demon screeched as it was forced backwards. I felt its cold presence pass me by, flailing and hissing as it went. _Incredible_.

 “Now, that there’s room, someone just came in a moment ago, didn’t they?”

 There was a collective gasp, then the spirits began to chant in uneven shrieks, “Guest! Guest! Guest! Guest! Guest! Guest! Guest! Guest!”

 There was a familiar cackle of laughter, and then the overwhelming light began to dim. The shapes before me came into focus, and I could finally stop shielding my eyes from the intensity. Over a hundred spirits of many sizes and types crowded around the beacon and the radiating warmth it emitted. One of them noticed me, and the chant grew louder as more and more realized my presence. The crowd parted before me, and there, in the center of it all, she stood.

 I inhaled sharply as our eyes met, and I saw her for the first time in the light of the Fade. Every moment in the waking world, she was covered from head to toe in armor or in heavy furs, and even in them, she was lovely. Now, she wore a gown.

 It was a simple, sleeveless garment of light, layered linen cloth that was held up by leather cords tied behind her neck. The fabric swayed as she turned towards me, catching against her tall form to reveal a figure that was both beautifully curved and powerfully muscular. Her long hair fell past her shoulders in untamed waves against her arms and back, giving her the appearance of a some beautiful, untamed wildling.

 She was stunning. I allowed my gaze to wander momentarily, taking her in fully, before returning to her eyes. She opened her mouth to speak, and the spirits grew silent.

 “Solas,” she breathed softly, clearly surprised. There was a momentary flicker of disappointment in her eyes, but it vanished, replaced by curiosity. She smirked then. “I had wondered when you would show up. You’re quite late.”

 I stared at her for a moment as the pieces came together in my mind.

 “I apologize, lethallan,” I replied finally, stepping forward with my hands clasped behind my back. “It would appear I received my invitation late as well. I pray you will forgive me for the offense.”

 A small blush spread across Mahalia’s cheekbones, and her grin broadened. She shrugged.

 “There’s nothing to forgive, lethallin.” She then spread her arms wide, still grinning wide. “Welcome to my humble little corner of the Fade.”

 The spirits that surrounded us all began to speak at once, chattering with each other in an unintelligible sprawl of words. I felt a smile spread across my face as I watched them interact. It has been a long time since I’d seen so many in one spot together peacefully. For a moment, I almost forgot where I was, and when I was.

 “It is impressive. Truly,” I said, completely sincere. “It is rare to find another so skilled at manipulating the Fade. Might I ask who taught you?”

 She chuckled. “No one did, I’m afraid. My brother and I figured it out as we went along. He’s a little better at this, though.”

 “Really?” I moved closer, until only a few feet separated us. “I find that hard to believe.”

 “It’s the truth,” she said ruefully. “Speaking of, you seem quite comfortable here as well. Lots of practice, I take it?”

 Her tone was teasing and light, like always, yet I could sense the genuine curiosity in her. I felt a pang of sorrow. Once, the gift of dreaming had been as numerous and as common as the grass, and now it was a rarity to find even one. And Mahalia truly was a rarity; this became clearer to me every day.

 The waves of magic that poured from the beacon were more subdued now, but no less intense. They rolled past, vibrating within the very center of my being with strong, insistent thrums as they went. Mahalia stood in front, seemingly unfazed by the massive magical construct that doubtlessly required a will of tempered steel to maintain. And yet she had had no formal training.

  _Remarkable_.

 “Yes, indeed,” I replied, watching her closely. She would waver under the strain soon. The only question was, _when_. “It is reassuring, and surprising, to find that I am not alone in this field of study.” I paused. Still nothing. “Would you mind if I asked a question?”

 One delicate eyebrow arched while the eyes below glittered in amusement. “You just did, but go ahead anyway.”

 I gestured to the towering beacon. “What is the purpose of this?”

 For a long moment, she did not answer. The cheerful expression on her face grew somewhat strained as she faltered. How interesting.

 “Isn’t it obvious?” Her recovery was swift, her pause hardly noticeable, and her voice smooth and bright. However, I had not played the Immortal Game for thousands of years without learning subtlety. I noticed the crack. “It’s clear to me that the Inquisition is bent on setting up a main base here in Haven, and we are no doubt going to spend a great deal of time here while we deal with this… _mess_.” She made a face. “I thought I’d spend the night getting to know the occupants of this place. They all seem quite keen on getting rid of the Breach.”

  _Lie._ I felt my mouth twitch upward again of its own accord. It was a good lie, and I could not fault her for such a convincing attempt.

 “He doesn’t believe you.”

 It was a spirit who had spoken up. It held the form of a small elven woman, but gray. The spirit’s form seemed to shift and alternate between countless shades of gray from all points on the spectrum. The sight was utterly mesmerizing.

 A spirit of truth. How coincidental.

 It floated between the both of us, glancing back and forth even though the creature had no eyes.

 “Why not? It’s true!” she glared at me, indignant.

 “He thinks you’re lying. Hiding something.”

 Mahalia huffed and crossed her arms. The thin leather bands on her upper arms strained as her prominent biceps flexed with the movement, and I noticed then that her arms were not smooth. They were scarred. Heavily scarred, with thick, jagged marks that snaked down from past her shoulders to her wrists in what appeared to be an intentional pattern. Smaller marks slashed across these menacing highways, clearly the remnants of various battle injuries. What had happened to her?

 “What? My dear Solas, are you saying you don’t trust me?” She was teasing me again, attempting to deflect with her usual brand of exaggerated humor.

 Did I trust her? An unusual question, even though it was meant in jest. No. No, I did not trust her. I found her fascinating and completely unlike anyone I’d ever met in my long lifetime. I appreciated her intellect, her curiosity, and her obvious strength. I admired her. But trust? Trust was entirely different.

 “Yes.”

 If she was offended, she gave no sign of it and merely shrugged.

 “Fair enough,” she said, the humor evaporating from her voice. “I’d be surprised if you did. I don’t trust anyone either.”

 I held back a frustrated sigh. She was doing it again. I had discovered weeks ago that when she did not want to talk about a topic, she would begin to subtly redirect the conversation.

 “You are deflecting.”

 She blinked. “I am not. I’m merely stating a fact.”

 “And in doing so, you are changing the subject,” I countered.

 Violet eyes narrowed. “I was right. You are a little shit.”

 I stared at her, stunned by her statement. I did not fully understand what she meant by ‘little shit’, as I had never heard the phrase before, but it did not appear positive. She was angry, and she had turned to petty insults. I felt my hackles rise. How disappointing. I had expected better from her.

 I opened my mouth to retort, but Mahalia seemed to deflate, as though suddenly exhausted. I stopped and frowned at the change. My irritation faded as I watched. Her whole posture shifted and her head bowed for a moment. The beacon behind her flickered and sputtered wildly for several seconds, then, without warning, it was gone.

 The spirits surrounding us let out yelps and cries of disappointment. Mahalia lifted her head and smiled softly at them all.

 “I’ve kept you all too long,” she said gently, but firmly. She made shooing motions with her hands. “It was a pleasure to meet all of you, but now it’s time to go. You are all welcome to visit me again. So long as you _behave_.”

 A few spirits flinched at the last statement, but obeyed. Demons, I realized with a start. She had allowed multiple demons into her dreamscape, and she remained unharmed.

 Within moments, the entire plain was empty, save for us and a few remaining wisps. She turned to me again, sharp eyes flitting over me judgmentally. Then, she sighed, and the environment around us changed.

 Stone walls formed out of air, curving upwards into a high ceiling. Hundreds of panels of stained glass decorated the ornate windows, filtering the sunlight into a multitude of brilliant colors. Rich tapestries and painting hung on the opposite wall, depicting battles and hunts and other scenes I could not readily decipher. Every detail was intricately crafted, as though from memory. Whatever this place was, she had been here before.

 “I was trying to contact another Somniari who visited Haven some months ago.”

 I tore my gaze away from the scene Mahalia had made. She leaned against a marble pillar a few feet away, resignation and weariness clear in the lines of her countenance. Dawn had no doubt broken in the waking world by this point. How long had she been maintaining that beacon?

 Another Somniari?

 “The brother you mentioned?”

 She snorted loudly. “Oh, I seriously doubt it.” A pause. She hesitated, unsure for a moment. “Truth be told, I don’t really know who he is. A few nights before we left for the Hinterlands, I noticed him sneaking around.” Mahalia pushed herself from the pillar, mouth tensed into a thin line. “I thought that if he was still here, I might draw him out tonight. You were the only dreamer who showed up.”

 Every fiber in my being tensed at her words. She had brought me here. And she didn’t know. I felt a powerful urge to laugh, to release this strange mix of conflicting emotions that had built in my chest, but I couldn’t yet.

  _Oh, you clever, clever girl._

 I had to be more careful, I knew that now. She had gotten far too close. Yet, I couldn’t stop the odd pride I felt at her accomplishment.

 “Do you believe this other Somniari was involved with the Breach?” I pressed cautiously. I stepped closer to where she stood, closely examining the micro-expressions that fluttered over her face and body.

 A crease formed between her eyebrows, and she stared past me with troubled eyes. For a long time, she said nothing. My chest felt strangely tight as I waited for her to speak, and I realized then that I had forgotten to breathe. I did not know why her opinion mattered so much, yet I could not shake the desire--no, the need to know what she thought.

 “I don’t know.” Her voice was smaller than I had expected. Uncertain. “I hope not.”

 That was not quite an answer, but it would do. Relieved, I took a breath. My head tilted to the side as I continued to regard her carefully.

 “Mahalia, how long have you been maintaining that beacon?” She looked up at me curiously.

 The corners of her mouth turned down as she considered my question. She shrugged lightly.

 “About… fourteen hours, I’d say.” I felt my mouth drop slightly. She shrugged again. “I went to bed very early.”

 Fourteen hours. I could feel myself unabashedly gawking at her, but I did not have the presence of mind to stop. She was _a child_. Clearly, she was mature, but she simply could not have been more than thirty. She was too young to have such unwavering control for so long.

 The shock that had caught me unawares had shifted to incredulity before settling on respect. I looked down at her with new eyes, as though seeing her for the first time. She was more than just a rarity. That much was certain. Much more.

 “That is remarkable,” I said finally. My voice remained steady only through sheer force of will. She smirked, as though she could sense how unsteady I was. “That is truly an impressive feat. You must be pleased to have mastered such a skill. It is one worth being proud of.”

 She appeared puzzled. “I suppose so. What do you mean, exactly?”

 Was it not obvious?

 “You train your will to manipulate the Fade and withstand possession. Your indomitable focus is an enjoyable side benefit,” I explained, still reeling. “You have chosen a path whose steps you do not dislike, because it leads to a destination you enjoy. As have I.”

 “Indomitable focus?” she asked.

 “Presumably. I have yet to see it dominated,” I replied carefully. “I imagine that the sight would be… fascinating.”

 How far did the depths of her control extend? If she could maintain such unshakeable focus for so long, the possibilities of what else she could be capable of were thrilling to consider. Her abilities would no doubt be useful, and with extensive training, she could surpass even myself. But what would it take to discover the natural range of her will?

 “Hmmm.” She made a deep, humming sound in the base of her throat, drawing me out of my thoughts. Her face was pinker than before, and she was smirking. “That would be highly difficult. A feat that few in this world have come close to accomplishing.”

 Mahalia had been moving closer to me as she spoke, and stopped mere inches from me. I could feel the warmth of her presence before me, and I stood very still. She reached for the jawbone pendant that hung around my neck, tangling the cords around her fingers.

 “Are you sure you would want to attempt it?”

  _Ah_.

 Her voice lacked her usual lilted teasing, even though her dark violet eyes were bright and twinkling. Instead, there was a note of challenge, of daring. My nostrils had flared involuntarily, and I could pick up the sweet scent of her hair.

 She was so close, and so very beautiful. I wanted to touch her, to run my fingers through her golden mane, to trace the many silver scars that were scattered across her skin and ask her the stories behind each. She was so close, too close, and every second she was this near, it became harder to think properly.

 Before I had the sense to stop myself, I leaned in further until our faces were only inches apart. Her face was flushing even more than before, but she retained that wicked smirk.

 “Are _you_?” Her pupils dilated when I spoke. “I am not the one you need worry about.”

 Her laugh was soft and breathy. I could see the mischief returning to her, and she had yet to move away from me. She opened her mouth to speak.

 She froze. Brows furrowed suddenly as her body turned rigid. The playful excitement that had begun to build vanished between us, and I felt colder somehow. She stared past me, over my shoulder, bewilderment painted across her features.

 “What in the name of--?”

 She disappeared. Her whole presence evaporated, as though snuffed from existence, and her sudden absence struck me like a blow to the chest. The hall she had built crumbled without her will to support it, and all that remained were the endless, ever-shifting plains of the Fade.

 My fingers touched the jawbone around my neck, and I took a few deep, steadying breaths of air. I could still feel the warmth of her hand imprinted on the pendant, could still sense the gentle floral scent she had left behind.

 This was not normal. I was not accustomed to being thrown off guard so easily, especially in the Fade. I had always been intrigued by her since the moment I laid eyes upon her. But this… These impulses lay beyond mere interest.

 It had been a long time since I had allowed myself to even consider being intimate with another, secretly or otherwise. Too much relied on me to be focused and free of distraction. Too many lives had depended on me, and the same was true today.

 And yet…

 I shook myself. There was no time to dwell on this. The flirtation was a pleasant diversion, and I enjoyed her company. That was enough. It had to be enough.

 For now, it was time to wake up.

* * *

 The first thing that occurred to me when I woke, was that my head was pounding harder than an Avvar with a warhammer. Second, there was screaming. A lot of screaming.

 I bolted upright at the sound and stumbled out of bed with as much speed as I could muster. Pain seared through my skull at the sudden movement, and a whimper escaped my clenched teeth, but I kept going. I burst through the door and into the Chantry hall, where the commotion was coming from. I stopped and gaped at the sight before me.

 It was chaos.

 At least thirty guardsmen and Inquisition soldiers had swarmed the hall, all of them shouting and furiously chasing after something that kept eluding them. The Chantry sisters had pressed themselves up against the wall, pale and shrieking in terror. They each turned and sprinted past me to the safety of the private rooms, yelping as they ran.

 I squinted to get a better look at what was causing the commotion. Underneath the screeching and cursing, I could hear the yelps of something inhuman, and I caught sight of a gray shape darting back and forth among the guards. It was long and large, about the size of mabari.

  _Oh no_. Agent Varlassan must have returned today. With Felros.

 I sprinted forward, heart hammering in my chest.

 “Wait! Stop! Stop it, he’s with me!” No one acknowledged me. I skid to a halt and cupped my hands to my mouth. “Felros! I’m here! Come, boy!”

 The dark gray shape burst out of the throng of soldiers, making a beeline straight to me. The creature leapt and smacked me straight in the middle, knocking me down on my ass. I grunted at the impact. The unruly mass of long, thick gray fur pressed against me and hid its head in my lap, panting hard and whimpering.

 The unmistakeable stains of red coated the fur in splotches and seeped onto my hands.

 “Herald! It’s got the Herald!”

  _Unbelievable._ My blood boiled in my veins.

 “What the fuck did you do to my wolf?!” I snarled, incensed.

 I must have let my magic slip a little because suddenly all of them stopped dead in their tracks, and I could see the slight glint of purple reflected in their eyes.

 “Uhh...” They glanced at each other, unsure. I spied more than a few of them with red on their blades.

 Wordlessly, I began to cast a healing spell over my wounded friend. Felros lifted his head to weakly lick my face. I could see the pain in his golden eyes, and it enraged me even more.

 “Did none of you receive word that he would arrive?” I demanded. Fury poured off me in waves. One burly man in heavy chainmail stepped forward.

 “Lieutenant Josef, milady,” he announced, fingers twitching as he fidgeted under my furious glare. “We heard your animal companion was comin’, but, uh… Ahem, we thought it’d be a mabari, not,” he gestured helplessly to Felros, face turning red. “We all saw the beast runnin’ through the village like its tail was on fire, scarin’ folk half to death. We thought it was an attack. We didn’t mean any harm, milady, we swear.”

 Felros, who had been resting his head on my shoulder, lifted himself up enough to growl at the man and bare his teeth. A few of the soldiers  reached for their weapons, eying the wolf fearfully.

 “His name is Felros, and he’s not a beast,” I said evenly, reigning my temper in. “Where is Commander Cullen?”

 “Down by the training yard, milady,” the lieutenant replied, still fidgeting.

 There was a sound of a door unlocking and opening behind us.

 “Oh, goodness gracious.” The ambassador. “What has happened? There was an ungodly noise! Is anyone hurt?”

 I turned. Lady Montilyet wore her usual gold ruffled dress and vest, but her hair was down and loose, and she seemed a bit more harried than normal. She took in the strange scene with wide eyes before finally settling her astonished gaze on the huge, bloodied wolf in my lap. Her dark skin turned slightly ashen.

 “Oh my. Is that… is that a wolf?”

 “Yes, ambassador. This is Felros, my companion.” Her mouth dropped.

 I heard the main doors swing open with a creak.

 “This is very unusual. What happened?” she asked nervously. Felros was still focused on the soldiers and hadn’t paid attention to her, but it was clear she was unsettled by his presence.

 “Indeed, that is what I’d like to know as well.” Commander Cullen’s no-nonsense tone set every one of the men at full attention as they turned to face him.

 Another, higher voice joined in. “We told you! Felros bolted the moment we arrived at the gates. I didn’t think he’d run off like that!”

 Ellana? I could not see past the wall of men that stood between me and the Commander.

 “That is not it,” he snapped. “You, lieutenant. Where is the Herald? And that wolf?”

 “We’re right here, Cullen,” I called. “You can call off your men. I think we’ve all had enough excitement for one morning.”

 I turned back to examine Felros as Cullen dismissed the soldiers. The long slashes in his skin had stopped bleeding and were beginning to knit together properly. I continued to hold the spell.

 “Hahren!” There was a flash of copper, and another body collided with mine. Definitely Ellana. No, no, no, no, no. It wasn’t safe for her here.

 “What in the name of all that is sacred are you doing here, da’len?” I pulled back from the hug. “You shouldn’t be here.”

 Those enormous green eyes turned hurt and her ears drooped slightly.

 “We thought you’d like to see us. We want to help,” she said softly.

 I straightened. “We? Did you drag your brother with you again?”

 Mahanon stepped into view, mouth thin as he surveyed the damage I was repairing. He met my gaze and nodded once. I returned the small gesture. He was a boy of few words.

 Cullen interjected,“You told me the Herald sent for the three of you.”

 Ellana froze, eyes like that of a frightened deer. “She did,” she stuttered. “...Minus two of us. The Keeper sent me and Mahanon.” She wasn’t quite meeting my gaze.

 “Uh huh.” My lips pressed into a thin, disapproving line. What a little liar.

 “Well, we welcome anyone willing to aid our cause,” Lady Montilyet interjected, her usual cheer restored. “Especially from our esteemed Dalish neighbors. What skills do the two of you possess?”

 I craned my head to scowl at the ambassador. They were little more than children. She shouldn’t be encouraging them, especially Ellana. I had to stop this.

 “They’re fully trained mages, but their greatest skills lie elsewhere,” I cut across Ellana, who’d started to speak. “Ellana, here, is a talented herbalist and is experienced with healing as well. Mahanon is a blacksmith. I’m sure there are available positions that could use such skills, yes?”

 Lady Montilyet had her clipboard out and was scribbling furiously on a pad of paper. She looked up and smiled.

 “Yes, certainly! If the both of you would come with me, I will set you up with your lodgings and positions,” she beckoned to the twins. Her eyes fell on Felros. “And your, uh, wolf?”

 “He goes where I go,” I stated firmly. I would not negotiate on that. It was too dangerous to let him wander the town by himself.

 “Are you certain that a wolf is the best image you wish to present to the public?”

 I levelled her with a flat stare. “Yes.”

 She sighed before caving, “Very well. If you would come with me?” She gestured towards her office. Ellana tugged at my shirt.

 “But Hahren, I want to fight,” she whined. I knew this was coming. “Mahanon and I have been training since we were little. You told us--”

 “No,” I interrupted.

 “But--”

 “You’re sixteen. The answer is no.”

 “Almost seventeen,” she muttered with a pout, but she still got up and followed the ambassador to her office. Albeit, slowly.

 Mahanon shuffled by silently. I reached out and lightly grasped his wrist. He stopped to look at me.

 “Keep your sister out of trouble, will you?” It was a silly thing to ask. The poor boy had been guarding his excitable twin since before he could walk, and that wasn’t likely to change. “ _This is the human world._ ”

 He said nothing, his expression remaining its usual blankness as he turned his hand to gently squeeze mine. He nodded solemnly before letting go to wordlessly follow Ellana.

 I stifled a groan. This was not how I thought this day would go. Even worse, the twins were here. Granted, I had trained them well and I'd been all for them exploring the world. But the chessboard had changed the moment the Breach opened. They shouldn't have come here.

 “I hope you know what you’re doing. Those two are untested apostates,” Cullen warned, his expression twisted slightly in distaste.

 I cocked my head to the side. “So am I, Commander. I understand your concern, but they are no more a danger than the sword at your side. I give you my word on that.”

 For a moment, it seemed as though the Commander would argue. He fidgeted and paced on the spot before stopping to sigh heavily. He looked tired. No, exhausted. I felt a small measure of sympathy bloom for this poor man. He was only doing his job.

 “I suppose that’s all I can ask expect for now. I really hope this won’t come back to haunt us.”

 I nodded. “It won’t, Commander.”

 He sighed again before turning to leave. “I’ll be at the training yard, if you need me.”

 As he left, I felt a soft, wet nose press against my hand. Intelligent, amber colored eyes stared up at me, unblinking. The pain had dissipated from them, and I ceased the healing spell. He was alright, he was safe. I dragged my fingers through his long, thick gray fur, and let out a relieved breath. Felros whined softly.

 “ _I have you, little wolf. I won’t let them hurt you again._ ” The elven seemed to reassure him, and he rested his head on my shoulder again.

 The headache that I had been ignoring since I heard the screams, returned with a vengeance. I let my head rest against Felros’ soft fur, and I moaned softly.

 All those hours, all that work, and Fen’harel had not shown up. Perhaps it really had been foolish to think that I could lure the Dread Wolf out on his own terrain. Perhaps he hadn’t even been there, or perhaps he was disapproved of how garish and unsubtle my work had been. Or perhaps he simply didn’t care. It didn’t matter. Either way, the beacon had not worked, and I had returned to square one with a crushing headache. I wanted to cry.

 Felros stiffened suddenly against me, and I felt him lift his head. I could hear the beginning rumbles of a growl start in his throat. I picked my own head up to follow where he was looking.

 It was Solas. I felt my face warm.

 He stood off to the side, half cloaked in shadow, watching Felros and I with his usual piercing gaze. In the dark, his tall form was striking, and the shadows that fell around his sharp features gave him the appearance of something dark and dangerous. How had I not noticed him there?

 “How long have you been standing there?”

 He moved out of the darkness and into the light, striding towards the two of us in a slow, measured amble. For an apostate who’d spent his life in the wilderness in rags, he was remarkably graceful and elegant in his movements.

 “Only a moment,” he replied. His hands were clasped behind his straight back as he walked, like some dignified prince. “I’d heard the gossip about the new arrival, and I wished to see for myself.”

 He stopped a couple feet away when Felros began to bare his fangs. To his credit, he didn’t appear the slightest bit concerned by the gesture.

 “And now you see him.”

 “So I do.” Solas’s eyes flitted to me, fixing me with a stare that was indecipherable. My face grew hotter, and I knew I was blushing again. Why was I blushing? I never blushed anymore.

 He brought out a mug from behind his back and held it out to me. Wisps of steam rose from its contents, and I automatically reached out to take it. Was it tea? Had he brought me tea?

 “I had thought you might need this after your excursion last night,” Solas explained.

 I inhaled the vapor. Ginger, chamomile, and elfroot tea. Perfect for headache relief. The pale cloudiness indicated that he had added cream. Cream! I took a careful sip and choked back a surprised moan. It was sweet.

 “Did you add sugar to this?” I held the mug before me, cupping it with delicate reverence.

 “I did. I find the taste unbearable without something to sweeten the flavor,” he admitted. “Is it too much?”

 “Solas, will you marry me?”

 He blinked twice, then burst out laughing. It deep, unrestrained laugh that made my insides flutter. I clamped down on that feeling. Damn it, I shouldn’t have given in and flirted with him last night. Now I was developing a crush. Just great!

 There were small tears in his eyes when Solas finally stopped chuckling, ending with a small snort. I fought back a grin. He was adorable.

 "I had not realized a cup of tea would improve your regard of me so intensely.” He smirked down at me, mirth still swimming in his eyes.

 “Nuh uh.” I shook my head vehemently before taking another sip. “This isn’t tea, it’s liquid gold.”

 Solas rolled his eyes and crouched down beside me. “I’m afraid we must agree to disagree on that.” He gestured to Felros, who had been watching him very closely the whole time. “May I?”

 I felt my eyebrows threaten to disappear into my hairline. He waited patiently for my response. Finally, I shrugged.

 “You’ll have to ask him, not me.”

 Without hesitation, Solas slowly reached out his hand towards Felros, palm up, and stopped before reaching him fully. Felros had been leaning against me, no doubt drained from the wounds he’d endured only minutes before. He sat up a little and stretched forward to daintily sniff Solas’s long fingers. Several moments passed.

 Felros wasn’t what I’d call a friendly creature. To everyone except the people I’d raised him around, he was very standoffish and shy, and he never made an effort to greet other people. So, I couldn’t help but be shocked when he began to lick Solas’s hand.

 Solas smiled a wide, affectionate smile at Felros before slowly reaching forward to gently stroke behind his ears. Felros leaned into his touch, and began to rub the crown of his head against Solas’s palm. He chuckled.

 “How on earth…” I trailed off, stunned. “How did you do that? He never treats strangers like that.”

 “Perhaps those strangers did not treat him with the respect a wolf deserves. Animals have a remarkable ability to sense the true nature of a person.” His smile grew when Felros bumped his hand, asking for more scratches. “Perhaps he knows that I mean him no harm.”

 That flipping sensation in my stomach became stronger, and a warm feeling began to grow in my chest. This just wasn’t fair. First, he makes an innuendo about my focus, then he gives me tea, now he’s friendly with my wolf. Did someone give him a book titled ‘How to Make Halia Lavellan Weak in the Knees for You’? _Ugh_.

 Whatever he was doing, he needed to stop it. Romance was a bag of slimy worms I really did not want to open again. Especially with a mortal who’d be dead in the next sixty years.

 Although if Corypheus was involved in this fight, the odds of my surviving the decade were just as slim as his. Maybe--

 No. No, I was not going there.

 “Why choose a wolf?” He was speaking again.

 I rested my hand in the fur of his neck and ran my fingers through the tufts. I knew the true answer, but I wasn’t going to give it to him. It had been my time as an Emerald Knight that had truly enamored me with the creatures. Ever since the Dales fell, it had felt wrong not to have one by my side.

 “Because I like them,” I said simply, after a moment’s pause. “They’re smart, strong, loyal, and they each have unique and complex personalities. I enjoy their company. And unlike horses, they enjoy mine.”

 “ _Even in this you surprise me._ ”

 I wanted to question what he meant by that, but at that moment, the Chantry doors groaned open, and in strode the Seeker, herself. She seemed out of breath. Her dark eyes zeroed in on Felros, and she scowled at me.

 “Please explain why there is a wolf in the Chantry.” Oh dear. Her tone was flat and sharp, the rumblings of suppressed rage just under the surface. She was pissed.

I sighed. Oh boy, here we go.


End file.
